


Learning To Believe

by heartsdesire456



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Origins, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Canon, Serious Injuries, Trust, Young Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since getting to know SHIELD's newest (and youngest) recruit Phil found himself failing dismally at crushing the warmth inside of him every time he saw Clint Barton. It was nearly impossible to not fall for someone so intelligent, so amusing, and so <i>alive</i>. Everything about Clint made Phil's entire world a little bit brighter, and no matter how hard he tried not to, he was definitely falling in love with Clint.</p><p>It was just hard to feel good about falling in love when the object of his affection was only eighteen years old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning To Believe

**Author's Note:**

> This fic took me FOREVER to finally get out, it feels like. It actually hasn't taken THAT long, but it's just been a struggle to try and deal with all the complexities of this situation!
> 
> A few notes! 
> 
> IF YOU FIND AN INCONSISTENCY WITH THE TIME PERIOD, I AM SO SORRY! I caught myself so many times writing about technology that didn't exist in 1993/1994! If you catch something I missed, like a tablet being used, PLEASE tell me so I can rectify that mistake!
> 
> Also important: There is absolutely NO underage going on here in spite of Phil feeling skeevy. Clint is 18 when the fic starts and fully a legal adult. HOWEVER there is **a warning I must toss in for mentions of Clint's child abuse having the potential to have become sexual abuse, but there is NO MENTION of actual sexual abuse ever having taken place!**
> 
> Other than that, I just have to toss in, that I JUST started writing this fic and WHILE I was writing it I thought to look up how they might look in their ages and I found a movie that Jeremy Renner was in when he was around 25 and it's actually [a really funny movie](http://chelsealovesmovies.wordpress.com/2014/11/02/national-lampoons-senior-trip-1995/), but one thing that stuck out was his hair, and it was SO EASY to picture 18 year old Clint Barton with that hair, so yeah. If you want the visual I'm using, [THIS](https://33.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m6akrwvVuo1rofdz5o4_250.gif) is totally what his hair looks like, lol.

The itch between his shoulder blades told Phil that someone was watching him. 

The fact he heard a soft squeak from the vent above him told him that he knew exactly who that someone was. Phil couldn’t help smile a little – down at his desk, not where he could be seen – because the fact Barton managed to get that far without being caught said he really was as good as everybody else was reluctant to admit he was. Speaking of which…

Phil’s door swung open after a brief knocking and in stormed an annoyed looking Agent Harden. “Agent Coulson, Sir.” He stopped in front of Phil’s desk and waited for Phil to look up and meet his eyes.

“Yes, Agent Harden?” he asked politely and Harden opened his mouth immediately.

“Sir, I’d like to report Trainee Barton for skipping his courses and suggest that he be discharged from SHIELD and sent somewhere his kind would be more welcome,” he said furiously.

Phil raised an eyebrow, lowering his pen. He sat back and crossed his hands over his lap. “What course is _Specialist_ Barton skipping? Also, what do you mean by ‘his kind’?” he added on, letting Harden fidget under his shrewd gaze. The man knew Coulson wasn’t an idiot but sometimes Coulson had a feeling they doubted him.

Harden cleared his throat. “Barton was supposed to take geography, military history, and global affairs today. He didn’t show up to a single one.” He squared his shoulders. “He’s a good shot, but he’s a dumb hick, Sir. He’d be better off in the Army or the Marines. They’d whip his insubordinate ass into shape. Make a man out of that boy. SHIELD is no place for trailer trash, if you don’t mind me saying so-“

“I do mind, actually,” Coulson said, surprised at the anger lacing his voice. He heard a soft rustle above him and was reminded exactly why Harden’s words angered him. Barton could hear everything being said and Coulson did _not_ like the idea of anybody hearing such uncalled for and crass remarks said behind their back. Coulson straightened up and looked up at Harden. “Agent Harden, Specialist Barton is an Agent of SHIELD. He is not a trainee, he is a specialist. We are not sending a very competent member of our organization to the Army just because he skipped some classes.” He inclined his head. “He will be punished for not attending his classes,” he agreed and he could easily imagine the frown Barton was giving the top of his head from the vent. “However, he is not a child to be sent away when his babysitter gets annoyed with him. Moreover, the fact you seem to think that ‘trailer trash’ is what the Army or Marines take shows that you clearly were never in the military.” He narrowed his eyes. “I was in the Army, Agent Harden, and Deputy Director Hill was a Marine. Do you want to tell Deputy Director Hill what you just told me about what you feel is suitable for the Marines?”

Harden opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking somewhat terrified. Coulson just nodded to the door and Harden nodded fast then turned and almost _ran_ from his office. When the door closed fully Coulson let out a soft chuckle and roll back away from his desk, looking up at the vent cover. “Would you care to join me, Barton?” he asked casually.

There was a small gasp of surprise, a pause, and finally the sounds of scraping and banging before the grate swung inwards and Barton rolled out headfirst, still managing to land on his feet between Phil and his desk. He gave him a sheepish smile and saluted him before walking around the desk and flopping down onto the couch along the wall. “So, be straight with me, Boss Man.” Barton looked at him with a small smile. “How long did you know I was there?”

Phil chuckled as he rolled back up to his desk. “Please, Barton. Do you think I survived eleven years as a SHIELD agent and can’t tell when someone is in a vent over my desk?”

Barton raised an eyebrow. “Eleven years? You said you were in the Army.”

Phil shrugged. “One year in the Army still counts,” he said. “Now. Why don’t you tell me why you didn’t attend your classes?”

Barton smirked. “Well heck, Sir, don’t you know I’m too much of a poor, dumb hick for all that fancy schoolin’” he drawled in an exaggerated ‘hick’ accent.

“You got your GED when you were fifteen and hadn’t been in school since you were nine years old, Barton,” Phil said bluntly. “If you were unintelligent, you wouldn’t be here.”

Barton gave him a sheepish look. “You know about my GED?” he asked and if Phil wasn’t too careful, he might think Barton looked kind of excited that someone knew he wasn’t stupid. Phil just raised an eyebrow. He sighed. “I just-“ He shrugged. “I don’t like it.”

Phil sighed. “Barton, a lot of things in life aren’t very fun-“

“No, I like the stuff they teach us,” he corrected. “I just hate how they all treat me like I’m a five year old.” He grumbled some. “I’m not a kid-“

“Barton,” Phil said gently, catching his attention. “You’re a teenager in with a group of adults and they all think you’re… different-“

“No, they all think I’m stupid trailer trash,” he argued, cheeks showing spots of pink in his anger. “They treat me like I’m stupid and like I’m a kid and they all talk down at me – not even to me, but at me – and I hate being put on the spot and then getting these patronizing ‘good job!’ reactions when I answer their dumb questions right!” Clint puffed out his cheeks, flopping to lay across the couch a bit dramatically. “Why do I have to do this? All you need me to do is shoot things!”

Phil gritted his teeth slightly. This was an old argument. Since Clint had been brought in six months ago, he was constantly contesting that all he needed to do was ‘shoot at things’ and had no other worth besides that. “Barton, you are a specialist. That does not mean your worth is confined to your ability to aim a weapon. You are an intelligent person, you are very good at tactical decision making, and you have the tools necessary to be a great agent.” He shook his head. “You just have to stop this ‘I’m a marksman and that’s it’ nonsense.”

“It’s _not_ nonsense, Coulson!” He held out his hands. “Look at me. I’m not good enough at the spy thing to seduce the bad guy or whatever, I’m not small enough to do the ‘if you see the ninja it’s already too late’ thing, and nobody takes me seriously so I have no use for my ‘intelligence’.” He shook his head. “Face it. I’m good at killing people. My entire worth is based on my ability to commit murder. I’m never gonna be a great anything. Your people found me doing the one thing I’m good at and that’s why they didn’t kill me.” He ducked his head some. “I’m just a gun for hire that they decided to buy and keep for their exclusive use.”

Phil rubbed at his forehead. “Barton,” he said tightly. “You are not a murderer-“

“I kill people and get paid for it, I’m literally a murderer-“

“You’re just a kid!” Coulson snapped and he winced, knowing it was the wrong thing to say. “I’m sorry, I know you hate being treated like a child, and I don’t think of you that way-“

“I’m an adult,” Clint argued petulantly. “It was my birthday two weeks ago, you know?”

Phil chuckled weakly. “Barton, you’re eighteen. You aren’t even old enough to drink.” Clint glared at him and he held up his hands in surrender. “Barton, you are not a murderer. Nobody can fault you for using a talent you have to survive. You were barely seventeen and otherwise totally alone-“

“Do you think maybe I should’ve been a hooker instead?” Clint asked abruptly, seemingly in lieu of nothing, and Phil sighed, shaking his head. “What? I could’ve been a hooker! Have you seen the creeps that buy rent boys? Starving teenager is totally perfect for some perverts underage fetish!” 

Phil refused to dignify that with a response. “You made a bad decision in careers, but that’s what we’re trying to help you do now. With SHIELD you are legitimizing the use of your skill set.” He shook his head. “But you have to go to your classes, Barton. You know the drill: no assignments until you pass the classes.”

He slumped even further on the couch, looking petulant. “Can’t-“ He bit his lip. “Can’t I just take the exams and be done?” he asked almost nervously. 

Phil frowned. “I… don’t know, actually.” He sat back. “Do you really think you could pass the exams without taking the classes?” he asked curiously.

Clint nodded vigorously. “Definitely! C’mon, Boss, you said yourself you think I’m smart, right?” He gave him a hopeful smile. “Can I _pleeeeeeassseeee_ just take the exams instead of the classes?”

Phil chuckled and shook his head. “I guess I can ask if you really want me to-“

“Yes!” Clint said quickly. “I mean…” He cleared his throat and straightened up some. “Yes, Sir, Agent Coulson. I would like that very much.” He looked at Phil eagerly, clearly hoping he was behaving correctly for once. Phil couldn’t help the fond swoop in his stomach when Clint’s eager eyes met his.

“I’ll send an email to Director Fury and see if there’s any way we can have you sit the exams and skip the rest of the courses,” he agreed and Clint positively _beamed_.

“Thank you, Sir!” he gushed. “I won’t fail, I promise.”

Phil smiled and nodded. “I don’t doubt you’ll do fine, Barton, but remember, I’m just going to _ask_.” He shook his head apologetically. “I can’t promise you anything.”

Clint shrugged. “Whatever, Boss, you’re giving me a chance, that’s good enough for me!” He hopped up. “Can I go to the range, Sir?” he asked and Phil nodded.

“Of course. I’ll have news from Fury by the end of the day, hopefully.”

Clint smiled brightly. “Thank you, Sir!” When he left the room, he was positively bouncing out the door.

Phil couldn’t help but shake his head at Clint’s behavior. He tried his hardest to be an adult like the rest of them, but in the end, he was still so much a child that Phil felt ashamed of the way his stomach lurched some whenever he looked at Clint at the right moment.

~

Clint’s first mission after sitting the last six exams he had for his school work – without even taking a single day of classes for his mathematics course - and passing with flying colors was meant to be a milk run.

Clint had passed all three of the classes he’d been skipping by taking the exams under Fury’s supervision and two weeks later, he took the last of his exams as well. Every test he passed without any trouble. On the math test that he didn’t even study for, he only missed three questions out of one hundred. Phil was more proud of Clint than he was suitably allowed to be, if he was honest. Phil could tell Fury was actually fond of Clint, which was practically unheard of. Something about the kid was just impossible to dislike to those who gave him a chance at all. 

Plenty of people didn’t like him, but they all made their judgments based on his smartass attitude without getting to know him and realizing he was actually a very intelligent and capable specialist, not just a smartass. Phil could see that it took a certain type of sense of humor to find Clint amusing, but he’d long complained to Nick that half of SHIELD had sticks up their asses, so that was nothing new to Phil. It didn’t help that Clint could tell when someone didn’t like him and he did his best to rub them the wrong way out of spite.

Phil should have known better than to let his first real mission – no matter how seemingly simple – be with someone that wasn’t Phil

Phil pressed another field dressing over the first on top of Clint’s wound. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he comforted when Clint whined and arched away from the pain. “You’re gonna be fine.” He turned to the man driving the jeep. “How long to the airfield?!” he demanded angrily.

“Two minutes max, Sir!” 

“Go faster,” Phil ordered, turning back to Clint. “C’mon, Barton, talk to me.”

Clint winced when they hit a rut in the dirt path to the airfield. “I- I tried to warn- to warn Walters-“ Clint coughed and Phil paled when he saw blood on Clint’s teeth. “I tried to-“ He whimpered. “Boss, did they get out?”

Phil let his head hang. “Walters didn’t,” he said and Clint’s eyes grew dimmer. “Look, it’s not your fault, Barton. This was supposed to be simple. Nobody was prepared for other parties-“

“I told him,” Clint gritted out. “I told him the door wasn’t locked like he thought, he- he just said I left it open and I didn’t, I told him I didn’t, but he didn’t believe me-“

“I know,” Phil grunted in frustration. “I know, Clint. Walters doubted you and that is not your fault.” They sped over a pothole as the plane came into view and Clint cried out in pain. “Be careful, damn it!” Phil barked at the driver, but as soon as they stopped he jumped to open the door. He hooked an arm under Clint’s shoulder. “Come on, this will hurt, but there’s a stretcher with your name on it right here.” Clint nodded and held on weakly as Phil pulled him backwards out of the backseat. He made a pained noise as the medic caught him on the other side and another medic helped them lower him onto a stretcher. They immediately picked him up and ran for the plane. Phil grabbed the two bags from the jeep and followed. When they were all onboard, Phil went directly to the medical bay where the medics started immediately cutting off Clint’s tac gear so they could start emergency field surgery.

Phil held Clint’s hand as the drugs started to kick in to knock him out. “It’s okay, Clint.”

Barton smiled weakly. “Ya- ya called me Clint _twice_ , Sir, but we’re on a mission!” he said in an almost giddy tone just before his eyelids drifted shut and he was out. 

Phil pulled away and moved to let the medics save Barton’s life while he went up front to call in to Director Fury and explain exactly what went wrong with the mission and the emergency extraction.

~

When Clint woke up, Fury told Phil to go handle the debrief for all of the people in medical that had survived the operation. Clint had saved everybody but his handler on that mission, but there were several of them who were injured. When Phil got their accounts of the situation, he could tell that Clint had gained a few fans by saving their lives. Each one had a look on their face like they regretted not taking him seriously when they talked about how Clint jumped onto the roof of the building across from them from their building and shot the people they were fighting.

When Phil finally got to Clint, Clint was curled on his side, looking out the window with a distant look in his eyes. Phil knocked and Clint turned his head. “Barton,” Phil greeted and Clint shuffled onto his back, wincing as he grabbed his side. Phil quickly looked him over, cataloguing his injuries. “The nurses say you’ve tried to sneak out twice,” he opened with and Clint shrugged.

“I’m fine. I hate sitting here.” He looked down at his hands. “I should go pack my stuff and get it over with.”

Phil sighed as he sat down. He’d expected something like this. “Clint,” he said gently. “You’re not being kicked out of SHIELD,” he said patiently. “Why would you think that?”

Clint gave him a disbelieving look. “I got my handler killed-“

“You saved four other people,” Phil interrupted. “Barton, people die in our business. It happens. It happens more than we’d like.” He opened his folders and spread out the reports on the edge of the bed. “‘Specialist Barton warned Agent Walters that the safe house was compromised, and when he was proven correct, he ran from our cover, risked his life leaping across the gap between the buildings, and from his new vantage point, was able to get clear shots on the assailants while the rest of us were sitting ducks.’” He looked up at Clint after reading the report. “All of your team might have been killed if you hadn’t been able to get to a better spot, Barton.”

Clint shrugged. “I saw the safe house was compromised and didn’t get there first to stop them from going in-“

“You told me that you told Walters it was compromised,” he said, pulling out a blank form. He pulled out a pen and handed it and the form over with a folder to press down on. He hesitated as he looked at the brace on Clint’s left wrist. “Can you write?”

Clint nodded, putting the pen in his right hand. “Ambidextrous,” he muttered as he sat up some, wincing a bit before he lifted a knee to start writing down his account of what happened. Phil waited until Clint finished writing and then handed him the folder and cross his arms across his knees, laying his chin on his forearms. Phil looked over his account of what happened before looking up. Clint was chewing on the Velcro on his brace as he watched him with wide, worried eyes. 

Phil looked back at the folder and put it aside. “Barton, the way Director Fury and I – as well as all the people on this mission – see it, you are the only way most of you made it out. You made that jump after you were _shot_ ,” he said, tapping Clint’s folder. “Nobody else mentioned that. I’m guessing they didn’t even see you get hit. You did something incredible on this mission.”

“A person died on a milk-run, Coulson,” he muttered. “How’s that a win?”

“Five people didn’t die when what should have been a milk-run went very bad very fast,” he argued. “Barton. I know this is tough, but this happens. This is what being an Agent is like.”

Clint sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know, but this wasn’t supposed to be one of those situations-“

“All situations can go bad,” Phil said gently. “No matter what you think, even the easiest thing can go wrong.”

Clint gave him a nervous look. “So… I’m not gonna get kicked out of SHIELD?” he asked and Phil chuckled. 

“Not at all. In fact, I have a feeling people will take you more seriously after you saved four people’s lives.” He shook his head. “No more calling you worthless at least.”

Clint managed a small smile and rested his chin on his arm. “Probably still some ‘dumb hick’s though. I mean I did get shot then jump a fifteen foot gap,” he said and Phil glowered mildly.

“Yeah, about that, don’t get shot and then not tell anybody until the backup team gets there, okay? You bled all over me,” he said and Clint grinned.

“I hurt your suit, when’s the last time somebody did that and lived to tell the tale, huh, Sir?” he asked brightly. “I’ve gotta be the first guy to kill one of Coulson’s suits and not get disappeared.”

Phil snorted. “Sadly my suits die ugly all the time. Usually it’s my blood, though.” He tapped Clint’s wrist with his pen as he stood up. “Don’t strain that until the muscle heals, okay? The longer you’re out of the range the more trouble you’ll cause me.”

Clint pouted dramatically. “I’m _fine_! It’s just some stitches in my side and a pulled muscle-“

“Barton,” Phil said gently and Clint’s smile faded. Phil shook his head. “You know I know that it wasn’t just some stitches in the side. I’m the one that held your side shut, remember?”

Clint held his serious gaze for a moment before he seemed to decide he had enough of the somber tone. He huffed and then batted his eyelashes. “Admit it, sir, you’d miss me if I died, wouldn’t you?”

Phil made a disinterested sound as he gathered his stuff. “Eh, I’d hate all the paperwork it would mean for me. Plus who would stalk me in the vents if you died?” he asked and Clint laughed.

Phil knew it was somewhat ridiculous to feel so proud of the way Clint’s eyes were much brighter than they had been when Phil walked in. 

~

The next time Phil saw Clint, he was at the range even though he had been barred from it. Phil thanked Jasper for the tip and walked down the lanes. He stopped beside Clint and crossed his arms. He leaned against the wall beside Clint, waiting until he finished his clip and started to reload before he knocked on the wall. “Barton.”

Clint jumped, fumbling with the clip he’d been about to insert. “Oh, uh, Sir,” he greeted, fixing a bright smile on his face. “Hi.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Care to tell me why you’re here, Barton-“ He stopped, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Clint’s head. “Are you wearing a purple headband?”

Clint gave him a flat look. “Yes, Sir. A lot of people wear them when shooting.”

“Lots of female agents wear sports bands to keep their bangs pinned back that their ponytails won’t hold,” Phil pointed out. “Also, that’s sports bands. Not purple headbands with flowers on them.”

Clint puffed out his chest. “Are you suggesting something’s wrong with that, Sir?”

Phil had to fight a smile at the offended look on Clint’s face. “No, no I’m not. I’m just saying it’s against regulations.” He looked at his hair. “Why don’t you get a haircut instead?”

Clint pouted. “Director Fury told me I wouldn’t have to cut my hair.”

Phil shrugged. “Well that’s up to you, Barton.” He narrowed his eyes some as he saw a glint when Clint turned his head. “Is that an earring?” he asked. 

“Well, yeah? You’ve never seen?” He turned both ways. “I wear ‘em when I’m not working.”

Phil looked at his ears. “Interesting. Is that how the kids do it these days?”

Clint scoffed. “Oh come on, Boss, it’s the nineties. Tons of guys have earrings! I was gonna get some tattoos but SHIELD says I can’t.”

Phil nodded. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Identifiable marks and all.” He looked at his earrings. “It’s just amusing. In my day, men only wore one ear pierced.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Really? Huh.” He shrugged, looking down the lane. “I was never around normal pop culture stuff. In the circus, people got some weird things pierced.” He leered. “I knew a girl with her nipples and her vagina pierced.” He reached out and hit the button to bring the target back. “It was one of the flame eaters. She just wore body paint, not clothes, so you could see her piercings.” When the target got to them he reached out and unclipped it, then held it up to Coulson. “See? Even shooting right-handed I’m still on target. I don’t need to be banned from the range.”

Phil looked and saw his shots were, as always, perfect. He sighed, shaking his head. “Only handguns. No pulling your stitches,” he conceded. He nodded to his earrings. “Just… be careful about that. There’s some old fashioned people around here. If anybody gives you trouble report them. SHIELD doesn’t discriminate or allow discrimination, but traditionally, the saying goes ‘left is right and right is wrong’.”

Clint frowned. “What does that mean, Sir?” he asked, clearly confused.

Phil cleared his throat. “It’s a way to…” He waved a hand. “Advertise a man’s orientation. Sexual orientation,” he finished awkwardly.

Clint’s eyebrows went up. “So basically to old people, this says I’m bisexual?” He blinked, then smirked. “Awesome! I can piss off the jerks easier!”

Phil sighed, rolling his eyes. “Just don’t start a fight, okay? We don’t have rules against having non-heterosexual agents, but the general tone of any organization full of militaristic middle aged men will not make your time here any easier if they label you non-heterosexual on top of the fact you’re only eighteen.”

Clint nodded. “I get it. Although, for the record, I think me being eighteen pisses off way more people than would be pissed at someone not being straight,” he said and Phil snorted.

“You’d be surprised,” he said. He wordlessly plucked the paper target from Clint and turned to leave. He heard Clint loading a new clip and calling up a new target as he walked out the door, folding the target in his hands.

Director Fury would be pleased to see that Clint was a perfect shot even with the wrong hand.

~

Phil had _finally_ got to go home and take the weekend off to sit around and do nothing and sleep in his bed after a week of sleeping on the couch at work or coming home just long enough to take a nap before having to go back…

And his phone rang at two in the morning. Phil picked up the one on his bedside table and brought it to his ear. “Nick, if the world isn’t ending, I’m going to shoot you,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Uh… Sir?” Phil’s eyes flickered open and he sat up some. “Sir, I’m sorry for callin-“

“Barton? What’s wrong? I thought you had the weekend off.” He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face before batting the cord away from where it was wrapped around his wrist. “Since when do you have my home number? Fury only gives it to people who need to contact me in case of an emergency?”

“I do!” Barton said in an odd tone. “Acutally … uh, no. Actuallllly, yeah, there.” Barton cleared his throat. “Uh, I shouldn’t have called. Fuck. I’m sorry, Sir-“

Phil frowned as he realized why Barton sounded weird. “Barton… have you been drinking? Am I being drunk dialed by an underage Agent of SHIELD,” he asked, making sure his disapproving tone was noticeable.

Barton sighed heavily into the phone. “Um, Sir? I- I know this is- is out of line,” he slurred. “But could you-“ He stopped and Phil heard the phone creaking on Clint’s end. “Can you come get me?”

Phil stilled. “Barton, talk to me.” He hoped using his ‘mission’ voice would help Clint focus.

“Peters ‘n Mathews ‘n Hart had the weekend off too, and after our bad mission they kinda talk to me some and- and I got my st’tches out and they said ‘celebration’.” Clint coughed. “B-but I dun- I dun drink. ‘N they convince me it’d be fiiine. But I don wanna be here anymore. I feel weird an’ Hart keeps m’kin passes at me and- and I wanna jus- I wanna go home, Sir,” he muttered weakly. “I jus wan go home. I didn’ know who to call an’ I remembered your number-“

“Barton,” Phil interrupted his rambling. “Where are you at?”

“Yer gonna get me?” Clint asked brightly. “Yay!” He proceeded to tell Phil about a bar that was about half an hour away. As Phil shuffled into some shoes, he made sure to grab his beeper in case something went even more wrong than being woken up at two in the morning went down.

~

When Phil pulled up outside the bar, Clint was squatted down, leaning against the side of the building. When he looked up and saw Phil, Phil winced at the way Clint staggered some when he stood up and stumbled off the curb when he walked to the car. “Shit, Sir, I am so glad to see you,” Clint groaned as he dropped into the passenger seat. He fumbled with the seat belt before finally giving up and leaving it off. He slid down in his seat. “I’m so sorry,” he started, rubbing at his forehead.

Phil nodded silently as he pulled away. “I would say you owe me big…”

Clint sighed. “I definitely owe you big, Sir.”

Phil chuckled. “If you got caught, I’d have serious paperwork to do so this is probably for the best.” He glanced over. “Are you okay?”

Clint grumbled, his head thumped against the window. “Mm yeah.” Clint didn’t say much else the rest of the drive until Phil parked in front of his building. Clint looked up and frowned. “Sir, where are we?” 

Phil gave him a flat look. “I just said if you got caught I’d have to do a lot of paperwork. I’m not taking you back to SHIELD.” 

When they got inside, Clint looked around. “Um… sir… are we going to you apartment?” he asked, following Phil up the stairs.

Phil nodded. “Sure are. You can stay the night then go back to SHIELD later.”

When they got into Phil’s apartment, Clint looked so uncomfortable as he awkwardly let Phil guide him along. “Um, Sir, I’m not in any shape to be around- around stuff that… matters.” He poked at a picture frame on the wall and actually flinched when it wobbled.

“Barton.” He put a hand on his elbow and guided him over towards the couch. “Sit. I’ll get you water. You’ll thank me,” he said as he pushed Clint some and he stumbled and landed on the couch with a huff.

When Phil returned, Clint was sitting with his knees up to his chest. Phil raised an eyebrow at the boots on his couch and Clint looked down dumbly. “Uh. Oh.” He put his feet down, looking at them on the floor for a while. “Sorry?” he tried.

Phil handed him a glass of water and sat on the coffee table in front of him. “Barton. What happened tonight?”

Clint took a sip of water and pouted. “I- I was trying to make friends?” he asked more than said.

Phil nodded. “Okay. So you said on the phone that you were out with Peters, Mathews, and Hart?” Clint nodded. “Why did they decided taking you to a bar was a good idea? They have to know you’d get in trouble since you’re underage.”

Clint shrugged. “They said it’s a tradition and me being underage didn’t mean it should change. I mean, buy the guy that saved your ass drinks sounds pretty standard. And it’s not like teenagers don’t drink all the time just cause they aren’t supposed to.”

“But you don’t do you?” he asked patiently. Clint shook his head, biting his lip. “What happened to scare you into calling me?” Clint shrugged. “Clint?” Clint looked up, surprised by the use of his first name. “Talk to me.”

Clint sighed. “I just- I don’t like feeling this way. I’m all- all unbalanced feeling.” He looked at his hands, closing one eye then the other. “I don’t feel in control and it feels- I feel vulnerable,” he admitted, looking like he hated saying the words. “And Hart kept hitting on me and- and then I-“ He swallowed hard, looking down. “I kinda… broke a door when I opened it. And-“ He sniffled some and Phil stilled, surprised. “I don’t- I don’t want to lose control. If I can’t judge my own strength what if I hurt somebody?”

Phil sat, waiting patiently, but Clint didn’t continue. He knew that it had to be more than that. “Well.” Phil cast around for something to say. “Well, alcohol affects some people differently. Some people don’t like the feeling, others feel really nice when they drink. It’s okay if you don’t like it-“

“I don’t wanna be him,” Clint whispered, looking up with tears in his eyes.

Phil frowned. “Who?”

Clint sniffled some, wiping at his eyes. “How much of my history do you know?” he asked hoarsely.

“Before you turned to being a mercenary, you were with Carson’s Traveling Circus, and before that, you and your brother were in an orphanage since your parents died in a car crash when you were eight. You left the circus because you and your brother had a falling out,” Phil recalled.

Clint nodded. “And do you know why my parents crashed?” Phil shook his head. Clint snorted. “Because they were both fucked up. My mother used almost as much as my dad drank.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said gently, but instead, Clint scoffed.

He laughed bitterly. “I was so fucking glad when they died.” He wiped at his face again. “How messed up is that? I was happy my parents were dead and I was only eight. They kept saying all this stuff about how they were ‘in a better place’ or shit like that when the social workers picked us up and took us with them but me and Barney both, we thought it was a miracle and hoped they burned in hell.”

Phil’s heart sank. “Your dad abused you,” he whispered and Clint nodded.

“He’d get drunk and beat the crap out of me and Barney both. Barney- Barney’d get it worse, cause I was smaller and could hide better. And our mom never tried to stop him. She never beat us, but her and dad would hit each other all the time. They’d both get fucked up and get angry and it wasn’t like he’d beat her and she’d just take it or something, she’d give as good as she got. They’d both always have bruises and black eyes. I don’t even know what my parents looked like without bruises.” He sniffled and laughed weakly. “Hell, I didn’t know what Barney looked like without bruises until they died. He probably thought the same with me.”

Phil clenched his fists, trying not to let Clint see them where they lay beside his thighs, at the thought of whatever it was that put such a broken look on Clint’s face. He was young, sure, but Phil had never seen Clint look like a scared child before. Whatever memories he was reliving, it was more terrifying for Clint than getting shot and bleeding out had been, and that was more than enough to make Phil’s blood boil. Clint’s tears had mostly stopped, but his eyes were puffy and his lips were swollen from biting them. He lifted a shaking hand to push his hair out of his eyes and Phil shook his head. “Clint, you are not your father,” he said gently.

Clint met his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t know that. I broke a _door_ , Sir. I broke a door just coming out of the bathroom. I can’t- I don’t like it.” He shook his head rapidly. “I don’t like feeling so- so out of control. If somebody made me mad, I might hit them! I’d be just like him. And I can’t even control my own strength and I’m dizzy and if somebody attacked me, I’d never be able to defend myself.” He looked up. “I don’t wanna feel this way again.”

Phil reached out and patted Clint’s shoulder as he stood. “You’ll be okay, Barton. I think you just had to learn a valuable lesson in an inopportune way.” He gave him a look. “No more underage drinking.”

Clint nodded at him. “I don’t think I like drinking. I never did it before ‘cause of my dad, but I thought I’d have fun tonight with the others. I didn’t have fun.”

Phil nodded to the water. “Drink that. You’ll feel better.” He went to go get Clint something to sleep in and came back to see Clint had kicked off his boots and was leaning back against the cushions, looking at all of the photos on the wall. “Here,” he offered. “You can take a shower if you want. Or if you don’t think you’re up to that, just change into something more comfortable to sleep in.”

Clint took them and thanked him. He stood up then wobbled some. “Uh… I think I’ll just go to sleep,” he said with a sheepish look. “Don’t wanna slip in the shower. It’d be so embarrassing to survive being shot and die in the shower.

Phil smiled and nodded at the kitchen. “Go drink some more water before you go to bed, Barton. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Clint grabbed the glass and walked that way with a hand on the wall to stabilize himself. “Thank you, Sir,” he said on his way past and Phil shrugged.

“I’m just glad you called me, Clint,” he said and Clint’s face seemed to light up some at Phil using his name again. “If you ever need something, you know that you can trust me to help you.”

Clint smiled a small, oddly private smile that Phil wasn’t sure he had ever seen. It was kind of breathtaking. “I know, Sir. I trust you.”

Phil had to bid him goodnight quickly and leave before he could make a fool of himself by stuttering out something about wanting to see Clint smile like that more often.

~

When Phil got up the next morning, Clint was lying face down on the couch, still asleep. He shook his head in amusement at how comfortable he looked before heading to the kitchen. It was only a reminder of how young Clint was that he was still asleep instead of having given up on sleep from the pain in his back from the couch. If Phil dozed off, he woke up hating his life.

Phil managed to finish making coffee and start on some breakfast before he heard a thud from the living room, followed by groaning. He looked up as he heard the rustling of fabric coming into the kitchen, only to drop the pancake he was flipping (thankfully back into the pan) when he saw Clint coming into the kitchen. He had pillow lines on his cheek, his hair was all sticking out on one side, and he only had one eye open, but something about seeing Clint in _his_ tee-shirt and sweatpants did something weird and wiggly to Phil’s belly.

“Mmmm, I’d kill anybody you told me to for some coffee right about now, Boss,” he mumbled as he shuffled towards the counter, arm held out as he made grabbing motions at the coffee maker.

Phil smiled. “Coffee, not aspirin?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Clint shook his head, hair flopping down into his eyes. “Nnng I think the water did the trick.” He flopped dramatically against the refrigerator as if he’d run into a wall. “But I need _coffee_ ,” he moaned as he pretended to slide down the doors. “So tired. Why are mornings a thing? I hate everything right now.”

Phil tutted but reached into the cabinet above the stove and grabbed a mug. “Here, you drama queen,” he said, putting it on the counter beside Clint. “You’re a decade younger than I am, you have no excuse to need caffeine to run if I’m fine right now.”

Clint glared at him as he poured coffee. “You’re a robot, Boss, don’t even try me. I know you don’t get tired, your battery drains. You plug yourself up at your desk when you need a boost.”

Phil smirked. “Is that what the trainees say about me?” he asked and Clint nodded as he poured coffee into his mug, drank it all, and then poured more to fill it up three times in a row. He sighed happily and hopped up onto the counter to sip the last refill. Phil shook his head in amusement. “You have problems, Barton.”

Clint shrugged. “Well, everybody’s got an addiction. At least mine is legal.” He tipped his mug to Coulson. “You, however, seem to be addicted to paperwork. That is far more unhealthy than coffee.”

Phil scoffed. “I hate paperwork, I just have to do a lot of it so I’m good at it.”

“Sir, if you said that at SHIELD, you would break the hearts of all the agents who think you are a robot Director Fury built to do his paperwork,” Clint joked, leaning back against the cabinets with his eyes shut.

“Collectables.” Clint hummed, opening his eyes. Phil smiled and shrugged sheepishly. “My addiction. I like to collect things. If you tell anybody I’ll kill you,” he warned. “But I have all sorts of old movie posters and collectable shot glasses, and a lot of Captain America memorabilia.”

Clint blinked at him. “Captain America.” He frowned and gave him a disbelieving look. “No way. You do not collect Captain America stuff-“ 

“I have six original flyers from his USO days in frames above the couch you slept on, go look,” Phil said with a little shrug. “At one point we busted this arms dealer and he had an _actual_ letter that Captain America never got that was written from Bucky Barnes that got lost in the mail, and I tried so hard to bribe Nick into letting me steal it when nobody was looking.” He grumbled. “But nooo he had to go and give it to a museum. Never did forgive him for that,” he commented absently as he plated up the last pancake.

Clint frowned. “Nick, Sir?” he asked in confusion.

Phil cringed slightly as he carried the plates to his small kitchen table, forcing Clint to follow him. “Don’t tell the others I’m first-name-friends with Director Fury.” He grabbed the syrup and his own coffee before he sat down and Clint slid into the seat across from him. “Most of the trainees don’t know that.”

Clint shrugged as he grabbed the syrup and started absolutely _drowning_ his pancakes. “I didn’t even know his name was ‘Nick’.” He frowned. “He doesn’t look like a Nick.” He ate a bite of pancakes, only to stop mid-chew and look up abruptly, eyes wide. “I don’t even know your first name, Sir,” he realized.

“You don’t?” Phil asked in surprise. Clint shook his head and Phil gave him a soft smile. “My name is Phil.”

Clint hummed contemplatively, leaning back in his chair as he chewed slowly. “Hmmmmm.” He swallowed and then looked at Phil for a moment before making a ‘whatever’ face. “I can see it. You look like a Phil. Phil’s such a ‘middle aged accountant’ name. You’re a total badass in secret, but most of the time you definitely look like a middle aged accountant.”

Phil grimaced. “Ouch.” He grumbled as he unhappily shoved a bite of pancake into his mouth. “‘M nah middle aged,” he muttered unhappily as he chewed.

Clint shrugged. “Well, you gotta remember, all you people are old to me. You’re like… thirty!” he said, looking somewhat horrified. “That old, and you have _bills_ and- and _taxes_ ,” he said in the voice most people reserved for things like cancer or cannibalism.

Phil chuckled. “You’re so lucky you don’t have to be a ‘real adult’, Barton. SHIELD takes care of your taxes and all your shopping and bills.”

Clint nodded seriously. “I don’t actually even know what size clothes I wear. I’ve grown a little more since I joined SHIELD and I get all my clothes issued to me so I just put on what they drop off for me.” He looked down at himself. “Hopefully I’ll grow a little more. I’m still so short,” he sighed dramatically. 

Phil rolled his eyes. “Nothing is wrong with your height,” he said in a warning tone.

Clint looked at him – straight across at the same eye level – and smirked. “Nope, not at all. I’m a great height!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “If I was big, I wouldn’t have managed to get into your pants, Boss.” Phil couldn’t help but laugh at the leer and wink Clint gave him. His ears burned a little at the double entendre, but Clint flirting was nothing new. 

“Well, going by the state of your ass in those pants, I’d say you should probably lay off the double desserts you con the lunch ladies in the mess hall into giving you,” Phil joked back. He was used to this Clint. Vulnerable and sleepy Clint was a little disarming, but he felt more on level with flirty bantering Clint.

“Hey!” Clint pouted dramatically. “I’m not fat,” he muttered, angrily stabbing another bite of pancake. “Besides.” He popped it into his mouth. “Oo cweeery ‘ere woohin ah mah ah.” Phil gave him a flat look and Clint swallowed. “I said, ‘you clearly were looking at my ass.”

Phil snickered. “Hard to miss it since you started getting fat,” he teased again and Clint scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Well, Hart sure seemed to-“ Clint stopped abruptly, falling silent. He looked down at his plate, shoulders up around his ears as he silently picked at his food.

Phil watched for a moment before clearing his throat, feigning casualness. “You know… there’s nothing in the regulations against relationships between agents as long as there’s no conflict created there,” he mentioned lightly.

Clint scrunched up his nose. “I don’t-“ He hesitated, tapping his fork on the plate. “Hart’s… older. I don’t know-“ He shrugged. “I just wanna focus on SHIELD for now,” he finished in a small voice.

Phil couldn’t help the small, jealous part of him that was a bit too pleased with Clint not wanting to pursue something with Hart. “Well, if she continues to flirt, just ask her to stop. Tell her you want to keep things professional and I’m sure she would understand.”

Clint nodded. “I plan on it.” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t even know what you do with a girlfriend. I mean, dating looks horrible. I’ve seen people on dates, that seems like the least appealing thing ever. If I was really into somebody, I’d wanna do something fun you know?”

“I understand the notion, but not many girls would appreciate a trip to the gun range as a ‘good time’,” Phil pointed out. “Women like to go out to nice restaurants and go to the movies, or theater, or to a concert.”

Clint made a face. “Yeah well, I’d rather get shot again than pay eighty bucks for two bites of some weird French crap and then go listen to that Italian yodeling that they call opera,” he said bluntly. “I’d rather sit around and watch game shows and order take out and call it a ‘date’, and I’ve never actually even ordered take out.”

Phil nodded. “I don’t blame you.” He shrugged. “Give it time. When you’re older finding someone will feel more like something you’re missing than it does when you’re young. I never was much for relationships either.”

Clint looked around the kitchen. “Well, clearly you’re not much for them now, Sir,” he hinted and Phil laughed in surprise.

“No, but that has less to do with finding someone and more to do with having _time_ for someone.” He shrugged. “Hard to keep a girlfriend when you have to get up at all hours and go avert an international crisis.”

Clint puffed out his chest “Besides, if you had a girlfriend, I doubt you’d have the pleasure of my company at breakfast,” he drawled, batting his eyelashes. “And that would just be a tragedy, Sir. You’d miss out on my pretty face brightening your day.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “I’d also miss out on the world’s worst bedhead that you’re dealing with,” he said just to watch Clint grumbled and start trying to flatten his hair down in spite of it springing right back into place.

One thing Clint had right, though, was that Phil honestly wouldn’t trade sharing breakfast with Clint for basically anything.

~

Phil had been thinking about it for a while, but Clint being cleared for active duty again made Phil finally go to Fury with his proposition.

“I want to be promoted to a mission handler, not just an SO,” Phil said as he barged into Fury’s office. He walked over and sat across from his desk, hands folded on his lap. “You need me and you know it.”

Fury raised his eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, Nick,” Phil said. He laid the folder in his lap on Fury’s desk. “I’ve been thinking about it a while and I’ve compiled a list of six missions where the mission handler got it wrong and it ended in failed missions and three where it ended in catastrophe. I could have made all nine of these instances not happen, or at least end better. You’re still down a handler after Walters, so I know you need someone and just haven’t found the right person yet.” He nodded. “I’m the right person. I can keep an incident like Bogata from happening.”

“Williams did all she could-“

“Williams took her civilian cellular telephone to a _drug cartel infiltration_ ,” Phil stressed. “She fucked up bad and because of that, one of her men lost his hand,” Phil reminded him. 

Fury leaned back in his chair, giving Phil a look. “This is about Barton going back in the pool isn’t it-“

“It has nothing to do with Specialist Barton and everything to do with you needing me,” he argued.

“Bullshit,” Fury said, rolling his eyes. “You coddle that kid,” he said with an accusatory look. “He is not your new puppy, Phil.” Phil gave him a hard look and Fury sighed. “Fine. I do need someone. But you do realize this means you in the van more often than the fight, right?”

Phil nodded and leaned back. “After May went and signed up for solo missions, I haven’t had as much fun anyways,” he said with a shrug. “Ass kicking isn’t as fun without a partner in crime.” He inclined his head. “Nick, this is what you should do.”

Fury laughed humorlessly. “I love how you’re just telling me what to do like I’m not your _boss_ ,” he said, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. I’ll promote you to mission handler. But I’m picking your teams,” he said, pointing at him. “You will skip the boring ones over and I need the best at their job, not the most fun to be trapped in a safe house with, got it?”

Phil nodded. “Got it.”

Fury shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Now get your ass out of my office before I change my mind, Phil.”

Phil smirked but just nodded as he stood. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fury watched him leave and scoffed. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

~

Phil enjoyed being a handler. 

In spite of what Nick said, his teams almost always included Clint and several others who were always good at their job. At times, Phil did miss being in the thick of the action, but between his own knowledge of what would work and the great feedback he got from his teams – especially from Sitwell and Barton – he was able to keep his agents safe and still finish the job, and that was a really great feeling. It was always satisfying when he met them at the airstrip and watched them marching captured targets towards the ramp where he was waiting. 

He and Sitwell were becoming pretty close, closer than they had been before Phil’s promotion, so Phil always had someone who cracked jokes at his expense rather than acted like they were scared of him. He also had Barton’s ever-present flirting to deal with. It turned out being on open comm feeds did nothing to curb his flirtatious attitude. 

“Alright, Boss, we’ve got three suits, four bodyguards, and in the distance I see a helicopter coming in to land, no doubt with more of both,” Clint called and Phil looked out of the open doors of the terrace and lifted his binoculars.

“Where at, Barton?” he asked.

“About twenty degrees up from my position. I’d say thirty degrees from the north. Is that good enough, Sir?” he asked. “It’s just above that mountain that kinda looks like Sitwell’s head.”

“Hey! That mountain doesn’t look like my head! It looks more like your ass-“

Phil sighed. “Could you two cool it? Serious business.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“Yeah, sorry Boss Man,” Clint said before chuckling. “Besides, if that was my ass it would be more round, right, Sir?”

Phil rolled his eyes but found the direction Clint described. He saw the helicopter he saw and was once again grateful to have Clint’s eyes on his side, not on the enemy’s. “Alright. Looks like we have a good half hour wait still before everything starts. Just stay in position and wait for it.”

“Roger that,” Sitwell said. “And seriously Barton, your ass isn’t that great, Kid. Stop being cocky.”

Barton laughed. “Hey, Coulson knows how great my ass is, he’s the only one of you that’s seen me in lounge pants, he can tell you how great it is, right, Boss?”

Phil sat back in his chair and chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about ‘great’, but it might have inspired me to do more squats and eat less pancakes,” he said, deciding to play along while they waited.

“Which is such a shame, cause your pancakes are amazing, Sir,” Clint said and Phil ducked his head with a small smile.

Sitwell however was oddly silent for a moment. “Wait… were the lounge pants and pancakes at the same time? Something you wanna share with the class there, Barton? Is that the secret to being teacher’s pet?”

Phil tensed suddenly, realizing the implication. “Sitwell, that is highly inappropriate.” He heard Clint cough awkwardly. 

“Hey, I’m just asking! I mean, that’s not against the rules or anything, Sir, and I’m a nineties man. The ‘teacher’s pet’ thing was just a joke. If you guys are a thing, I apologize for making it sound creepy-“

“This is not an appropriate topic of discussion, Agent Sitwell. And for the record, everybody else on this channel can hear this conversation. Whatever gossip mill there is surrounding my personal life, it better not include suggestions I would take advantage of my subordinates. I better not hear the words ‘teacher’s pet’ passed around back at headquarters, got it?” 

Sitwell sounded suitably apologetic when he said, “Understood, Sir.” There was a round of ‘Yes, Sir’s from the others on the channel, even if Barton stayed silent. 

After they got their photographs from Clint’s ‘nest’ in a bell tower a mile and a half away from the rendezvous point of a group of arms and drug dealers, enough proof to put them all away for good, they all met back at the safe house, which was a three bedroom villa near the edge of the city. Phil called a meeting to remind everyone what all they needed to do post-mission before they got picked up in the morning, and then he dismissed them to get cleaned up and start dinner.

He waited until everybody else was occupied before going out onto the terrace where Clint had moved to. He knocked on the open door before walking out to join Clint at the rail. “Good job today, Barton,” he said in opening.

Clint smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

Phil nodded. “You’ve got eyes like a hawk,” he said, shaking his head. “You were only about a block away from here and I would have never spotted that helicopter even with my binoculars.”

Clint preened. “Maybe that’s why I was called The Amazing Hawkeye in the circus,” he suggested and Phil raised an eyebrow.

“You weren’t,” he said, and Clint nodded. Phil chuckled. “I did not know that. The aim?” Clint nodded. “It makes sense.” Phil crossed his arms on the metal railing and took a breath. “Look. About what Sitwell said… if that’s what people think of you- if your co-workers think you’re-“

“Sleeping my way to the top?” Clint asked, rolling his eyes.

Phil grimaced. “Maybe you should swap and sleep with Jasper tonight to keep any rumors from-“

“Phil,” Clint said softly, catching his attention more closely. “Any rumors either existed or were started the minute Sitwell implied having breakfast with you meant I was sleeping with you. I really don’t think changing rooms now will help any. If anything it’ll make it look like we have something to cover up.”

Phil nodded. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I just don’t want to make things hard on you, Clint. You already struggle enough with people not taking you seriously because of your age. I don’t want people to question your place in SHIELD.”

Clint scoffed. “Sir, people have questioned my place in SHIELD since I showed up. Remember the ‘stupid hick’ thing?” he reminded him. “Besides.” He shrugged. “They can talk all they want. There aren’t any rules against fraternization – if there were, Hart hitting on me would be extra creepy – SHIELD doesn’t discriminate against non-heterosexual agents, and everybody important knows I have earned my spot in SHIELD and on your team.” He tensed. “I mean if- if you don’t like the rumors, I understand that, I just mean it doesn’t bother me. If that’s something you don’t want said about you, you could probably get Fury to do something about the gossiping-“

Phil laughed and put a hand on Clint’s wrist, quieting him. “Trust me. Being gay or sleeping with a specialist is far from the worst rumors about me. Besides, I think someone used to have a bet going about whether or not I was screwing Fury.”

Clint shuddered. “That’s horrifying,” he said, then snickered. “The leading rumors about you now are a tossup between ‘Robot’ and ‘KGB mole’.”

“Hey, that’s new,” Phil said with a smile. “Haven’t heard that I’m a KGB mole. I’ll have to phone the mother land on my shoe phone and let them know I’ve been found out,” he joked.

Clint laughed, looking up at him with bright, playful eyes. “If the other agents ever saw this side of you, your scary reputation would be ruined, Boss.”

Phil nudged their shoulders together. “Guess you’ll just have to keep my secret then, huh?”

Clint bit his lip and nodded, looking almost bashful. “Always, Sir.”

~

There was a reason Phil always bunked with Clint if it came to sharing a room or bed. It wasn’t the selfish reason, the fact that Clint tended to migrate in his sleep to press against the warm body next to him, but rather the protective side of Phil. 

Clint had nightmares. 

It didn’t happen all the time. In fact, it had only happened three times that Phil had been his handler on missions. But when it did happen, more often than not Clint woke up crying, and Phil did _not_ want to make Clint cry in front of someone else that would tease him for it. Clint was ashamed enough that Phil saw him crying, but Phil only had sympathy for Clint. He couldn’t imagine the life Clint had lived, all the suffering and fear, so he only wanted to comfort Clint when he had a nightmare, not laugh at him. 

Phil was pretty sure that if he found out someone laughed at Clint’s nightmares, he might get kicked out of SHIELD for beating the shit out of a junior agent or two. 

After such an easygoing, almost pleasant mission of just observing and photographing, Phil didn’t expect to wake up at three in the morning to Clint kicking and whimpering in his sleep beside him. “Nnnnnng, no,” Clint muttered fearfully in his sleep. “No, stop. Bar- Barney help!” he groaned, tossing over onto his front, dragging himself closer and closer to the edge of the bed.

Phil sat up just in time to reach out and grab Clint around the waist as he started to flip off of the bed. Grabbing him and hanging on, however, made him cry out and sling an arm towards Phil. “Clint, wake up, Clint!” he called, shaking him some while dodging his flailing limbs. “Clint!” he said more loudly, in a commanding voice. “Barton, wake up.”

Clint jerked awake, kicking a little to get out from under the covers totally, only to sit up and look around, panting fearfully. “Just a dream, just a dream,” he repeated over and over to himself, only to turn and spot Phil and pale. “Shit, Sir, did I-“

“I’m fine,” Phil said, sitting up fully so that his side of the blankets pooled around his waist. Clint nodded, bottom lip trembling some before he bit it hard. Phil tutted some and shook his head “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s okay, Clint. It’s just a nightmare.”

Clint sniffled, clearly fighting to not cry. “That’s the fourth time I’ve had a nightmare on you,” he whimpered, wiping hard at his face, clearly embarrassed.

Phil sat up against the headboard and held out his hand again, tugging Clint to him when he gave in and put his hand in Phil’s. Clint leaned back against the headboard beside Phil, squeezing his hand tightly as he did so. “It’s okay, Clint,” Phil said and Clint laughed wetly before pressing his face into the knees he’d drawn up to his chest

“You’re gonna make people talk if you keep calling me by my first name, Sir,” he said and Phil rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to call you ‘Barton’ while you’re shaken after a nightmare. Agent or not, I’m not heartless,” he said, stroking his thumb over the back of Clint’s hand soothingly. “Are you alright?” he asked and Clint nodded even as he took a ragged breath.

“I- I left the circus because- because my mentor was going to hurt me.” He looked up at Phil. “He’d always- he’d always looked at me,” he whispered and Phil’s blood ran cold. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d… you know.” He shrugged, flinching. “If he’d did stuff to some of the other boys, maybe. But he was definitely going to do it to me.” He swallowed hard, letting his heed drop back against the headboard. “He kept saying things- horrible things- in my ear. He’d whisper to me when we were getting ready for a show. And he would touch my face and my arms. When I changed, he’d stand there and- and watch me.” Clint ducked his head, groaning hoarsely into his hands. “I told Barney, I tried to get him to do something, but he just- he suggested maybe we’d get more money if I let him,” he said and Phil felt anger rise in him that he didn’t know he could feel. It was more seething rage than he’d felt in a long time.

“Your _brother_ tried to whore you out to your mentor?” he asked harshly, and Clint nodded.

“So I left,” he said simply. “That’s why I left. And- and that’s how I ended up a mercenary. I was fifteen when I left the circus. Fifteen when he started touching me and acted like he was gonna do more than look.” He made a disgusted face. “He’d been looking since I was about thirteen, though.” He wrapped both arms around himself, almost like he was trying to make himself tiny. “The nightmares are about the beatings turning into- into that.” He shook his head. “That’s why I’m so good, you know?” He smiled bitterly. “If you get beat when you miss, you learn to never miss. I didn’t get brave enough to run away until I thought he was going to do more than just hit me.”

Phil bit back a growl of rage and took a calming breath. “You’re safe, Clint. I promise you, he will never get you, okay?” Looking at Clint, it was a reminder of how young he really was. “Shit, that just makes the implication about me even worse-“

“You are not him,” Clint growled in a shocking display of anger. There was fire in his eyes as he looked at Phil, shaking his head. “You are not like him, Sir, you will never be him. You are a good man. I _trust_ you. Nothing could ever make you into that bastard and I don’t even want you to suggest it.” He shook his head rapidly, voice less angry but still strong. “Nothing they ever imply about you is anything like that. He wanted to hurt me, to break me down even more than he already had. Even if their rumors were true – and they aren’t, so it doesn’t matter – you wouldn’t be doing it to hurt me, you would do it just because it was normal people attraction.” He looked at a scar on his forearm that Phil didn’t have the stomach to ask about, tracing it. “Plenty of men have sex with other men, only monsters want to rape fifteen year old boys.”

Phil nodded. “That’s true, but a lot of people don’t differentiate. Rumors that I was sleeping with a young man eleven years younger than me would be just as disgusting to some people as if it was that bastard who wanted to rape a fifteen year old boy.”

“Well they’re the ones wrong, then,” Clint muttered, still looking at his wrists. “I know what people say about gay men, but the way I see it, anybody that thinks two adults wantin’ to do something that makes each other happy is even half as bad as some person wanting to hurt a kid the way he wanted to hurt me is anywhere close to the same thing is the one that’s sick and twisted, you know?” He shrugged. “Why- why is something that makes people happy and doesn’t hurt nobody bad, you know? I’ve seen bad. I’ve did bad.” He sniffled. “I’ve killed people cause somebody paid me to. Hell, I still kill people for money, just with a better reason. I _killed people_ , Phil,” he whispered. “How could anybody say wanting to kiss a man is what’s bad about me?”

Phil’s heart ached for the life Clint had lived. He was so young to be so damaged. “Do you?” he asked, trying to sound as trustworthy as possible. Clint looked up and Phil inclined his head. “Do you want to kiss men?” Clint shrugged but didn’t speak. “It’s okay, you know? If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but anything you say stays between you and me. I’d never tell anybody something that you told me in secret.”

Clint blushed some and shrugged, not meeting Phil’s eyes. “Sometimes,” he said in a soft tone. “It- it wasn’t so ‘wrong’ in the circus. I saw two of the acrobats kissing once. Two girls. Nobody said anything about it. It was just… it was just them. Nobody cared what they did as long as they could do their act. If being together didn’t hurt that, it wasn’t anybody’s business.” He smiled shyly and Phil couldn’t help smiling as well when he saw the fear and pain start to melt away. “Sometimes- sometimes I think I’d be happy kissing a man. It’s scary though, because then I remember that SHIELD isn’t the circus. Non-discrimination aside, I hear the kinda shit guys say at the gym. Even if I know you and Fury wouldn’t let anybody beat my ass for it, I still get scared that somebody might know.”

Phil huffed. “Clint, I don’t doubt for a second anybody that tried to take you would get their ass handed to them. I’ve sparred with you, remember? You’re almost as good as my old partner,” he said and Clint smiled some. “Trust me, Clint. You’re not the only person at SHIELD that has an interest in their own gender. Nothing is wrong with it either, you hear me?” Clint nodded. “People may think it’s wrong, but like you said. When you see the shit I have, it’s hard to say anything that doesn’t hurt anybody and still makes people happy is a bad thing.”

Clint smiled. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m sleepin’ in the same bed as you and I might like guys?”

Phil shook his head. “No, because I know you would never try and make a pass at someone who didn’t invite it, and you wouldn’t try and do it if it was invited while you were on a mission. You’re too professional for that.” He shrugged. “As for you possibly liking men, for full disclosure, in case you have a problem with it, I actually did have a male partner once.” Clint’s eyes widened in surprise and Phil tilted his head nonchalantly. “I don’t advertise my private life. I actually don’t have much of one, hence the ‘once’ part. In my life, I’ve had three relationships. Two were women, and one was a man. I was with him for eight months, even, so there’s no question, I did in fact like being with another man.”

Clint seemed shocked. “Did Fury know?” he asked, and Phil chuckled and nodded.

“Clint, you know by now that Nick is one of my oldest friends. He recruited me to SHIELD when I was your age, fresh out of high school. So yes, he knows I dated a man,” Phil said simply.

Clint looked somewhat hopeful when he met Phil’s eyes. “So… not being straight really won’t get me fired, huh? That’s- that’s really comforting.”

Phil nodded smiling. “And you can trust me not to expose your secret without exposing my own. I mean, mine isn’t a secret, if someone asked ‘did you have a boyfriend’ I wouldn’t lie. It just isn’t something I advertise.” He hesitated. “The same gesture extends to you, Clint. If it makes you uncomfortable to share a bed knowing-“

“Oh come on,” Clint argued, rolling his eyes. “Sir, I _trust you_ ,” he said as if that was the only answer Phil needed.

Phil figured that, to Clint, it probably was.

~

Working with Clint was both a blessing and a curse for Phil.

On one hand, there was nobody in his life that could make him smile the way Clint could. Phil knew he shouldn’t be encouraging his incredible inappropriate affections for Clint, but the way Clint looked at the world, and the way he would make funny remarks that nobody else at SHIELD dared make for fear of being seen as less of a ‘badass’ were too wonderful for Phil to try and restrict himself from enjoying. Clint would say things and do things and notice some things that Phil couldn’t imagine ever even thinking before Clint said them. 

To be so broken and so tortured by life, Clint still had a brightness in him that Phil couldn’t help but adore. 

Once on a mission in the jungles of Bolivia, Phil couldn’t find Clint after they set up their tents to camp for the night, so he went looking, only to find Clint up a ridiculously tall tree – a good seventy feet up in the air with no rope or anything – looking at the flowers on a vine growing along a branch. 

_“Barton, what the hell are you doing?!” Phil called up. “You fall and die, I’m not dragging your body back to the airstrip,” he shouted. Clint laughed, just loud enough for Phil to hear, and – much to Phil’s horror – leapt off of the branch, caught a vine a good six feet out from the trunk where he had been, and casually climbed down the vine, dropping the last eight feet to land beside Phil. “Barton, you are not a monkey,” Phil said flatly, even if internally, his heart was still trying to fit back into its regular rhythm after the near-heart attack Barton gave him._

_Clint held up a flower with a flourish. “For you, Sir.” Phil plucked the flower from his hand carefully, only to raise an eyebrow at him, waiting silently for an explanation. Clint gave a sheepish grin and shrugged. “I saw something bright pink up there, so I decided to see what it was. They’re really pretty, right?” he asked, looking at the red and orange streaks with the pink on the bud that sat in Phil’s palm. “It’s so incredible to see what kind of things exist in nature. It’s crazy that something so beautiful was made naturally, not colored with dyes and stuff. The idea that it’s just there, so far up a tree most people won’t ever see it, and there’s no reason for it to be so pretty, so unique, but it’s still beautiful. Just because,” he said with a small shrug. “Something just happened one day and it happened to make something so beautiful. Nobody did that cause they thought it should be that way. The animals won’t care what the flower looks like, you know? And people don’t go up there usually. So it’s like God or whatever just thought ‘I want something so unimaginably pretty to exist, so it shall be’ and there you go! These flowers,” he finished softly, glancing up from the flower to meet Phil’s eyes._

_Phil’s chest was so tight it was like he was drowning. He wanted to tell Clint that his outlook on life was sometimes the only thing that made Phil feel like getting out of the bed in the morning. He wanted to tell Clint that ‘God or whatever’ probably made beautiful things at random just because people like Clint would enjoy it. He wanted to tell Clint that, in Phil’s eyes, he was so much more beautiful and unique than a flower._

_In the end he said nothing except, “Thank you, Barton” and, “Now, go help the others get firewood if you’re through playing Tarzan.”_

_Clint beamed and saluted him comically. “Tarzan reporting for duty!” he said, then ran off to join the others, making a point of jumping up and catching a vine to swing off of just once before landing on his feet and continuing on his way again._

Days like that were the kind of days Phil longed for more of. That whole mission had been the best kind of torture, with Clint walking around shirtless around camp because it was so hot and humid and then telling Phil all about the animals that were making noises outside their tent while they tried to sleep, because apparently Clint liked nature documentaries in his down time, so he recognized the sounds.

Other times, missions went bad. Clint got injured often, because his desire to protect his team – even the people he didn’t especially like – often outweighed his luck when it came to dodging blades, bombs, and bullets. The worst had been the time he almost bled out that very first mission, but there had been other times that it wasn’t good.

From where Phil was sitting, looking at the shockingly unassuming looking video tape sitting on Fury’s desk, he couldn’t help but wish Clint was in front of him with a bullet wound to be tended.

~

Phil was the only one besides Nick who hadn’t slept in the past twenty-four hours. The situation room had been taken over by the team of analysts and strategists Fury had organized the second he got a phone call letting him know that two of their agents who had been on a three-person mission to Mostrar had lost contact with their informant. Clint had been sent with two more senior agents to try and help get information about who was profiting off of the terrible things going on in the region. The official US Government involvement in the war taking place in Bosnia was limited, but SHIELD had very high interests in keeping the region from becoming the jumping point for World War Three. 

It had taken the whole day to get in contact with someone who knew anything, but finally Fury found a contact in the region that had word about three American spies who had been captured. The phone call they were waiting on now would give them some idea of who had their agents and why.

Phil had almost dozed off when the phone ringing silenced everybody in the room.

Nick hit the button and sat down slowly. “This is Director Nick Fury of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”

The voice on the other end made a shiver of fear run down Phil’s spine, it was so _cold_. “You have two options, Director. You will get a video tape very soon in the mail. You make your decision and call me back.”

“What about my options?” Nick asked, but the voice on the line chuckled.

“You will understand when you see the video.”

The line went dead and Phil leaned back in his chair, taking measured breaths as he looked up at the ceiling. “Nick…” He trailed off and Nick nodded.

“Yeah, Phil. It’s bad this time,” he agreed before straightening up. “Alright, you heard them! Get on it. We have to find our team before I ever find out what those options are!” he commanded, and Phil could only watch as the room burst into a flurry of motion and people scrambled to start working on a location and plan of rescue.

~

Fury’s video tape arrived the next day, and for all they had waited for it to come, Phil wished he could’ve gone his whole life without seeing what it showed.

A man in a military style uniform walked in front of the camera in a dark room that held at least fifteen other soldiers around them. “Directory Fury. We captured your spies.” The camera panned right and everybody in the situation room could see three people tied up on their knees in a line. The man speaking walked over and ripped the bags off of their heads one at a time. Phil could see that, as they feared, Clint was the one on the end. “It’s quite simple. We want you to stop looking in on us.” He looked at the camera. “You can have your spies back with a promise you will not send more and a ransom paid for their return. Sounds fair, no?” He looked at Barton, Nash, and Howell and hummed before turning to walk back to stand in front of the other soldiers once more, the camera following him. He clasped his hands behind him. “Director, you can have them back for twenty million dollars. Ten each.”

Phil’s blood ran cold and Hill cursed and spoke. “Wait, ten each, that’s not-“

On the screen the man, without warning, pulled a gun and fired to the side and Phil wasn’t the only one that gasped and made an abortive jerk towards the TV screen. The man on the screen turned back and smiled darkly. “The little one is your punishment for sending spies into my country. You will receive a number for the wire transfer in the next telephone call.”

The screen went black and everyone sat in silence for a moment. Phil sucked in a breath and turned to face the others along the table. “Sir.” He swallowed, looking down at his hands. “The smallest agent on that mission is Barton,” he managed to get out without letting his voice waver.

Nick nodded. “At this time…” He closed his eyes and then stood tall, stable once he opened his eye and looked along the table. “At this time, we’re operating under the understanding that Agent Barton is dead. However, for now, we can assume that Nash and Howell are still alive.” He shook his head. “Obviously, we’re not paying them twenty-million. That’s not how SHIELD works.”

Phil looked up, swallowing down the part of him inside that was _screaming_ with pain and rage and tearing at the walls of his mind to just _do something_. “Sir, I’d like to assemble and head the team to rescue Nash and Howell.”

Nick gave him a suspicious look. “Are you sure you’ll be up for that? Agent Barton was your agent-“

“And Nash and Howell are still Agents of SHIELD,” Phil said simply. “You know I can do it. I’ve proved myself in the field.”

Nick nodded solemnly. “Twelve-man team. Have them ready to go in sixteen hours. That’s how long it’ll take for us to figure out where this is,” he said, pointing at the VCR that the tape was in.

Phil stood silently. “I’ll have a team within two hours.”

~

Phil spent the first ten minutes of his self-allotted two hours sitting on the couch in his office staring blankly ahead while inside everything in him was falling apart.

Clint was gone.

Phil couldn’t even breathe for the pain for a moment after he first thought those words. _Clint_ was gone. Clint was _gone_. His Clint, Clint Barton, Clinton Francis Barton… he was dead somewhere half a world away. 

Clint was eighteen, Phil thought. He looked at the balls of paper still in his wastepaper basket from Clint playing basketball with them before he left on his mission a few days prior. There were still broken pencils stuck in the tiles above the couch from Clint getting bored and throwing them up there. Hell, there was still mud from Clint’s boots on the arm of the couch from the time he forgot to take them off before taking a nap there.

Phil stood up, slowly shuffling to the cabinet behind his desk. He opened the door and looked at the box on the top shelf. Clint’s birthday was in two weeks, and Phil had ordered him a Walkman as a present. Clint had mentioned once when Phil’s old partner, Melinda, gave Jasper a cupcake for his birthday, that he’d never got a birthday present. His parents never cared, in foster care he was lucky they remembered to feed him, and the circus never allowed for down time to celebrate birthdays. Phil looked at the bright purple Walkman and his chest tightened unbearably. Clint loved purple so Phil got him one for his birthday. 

Clint was supposed to turn nineteen in two weeks. 

Instead, he’d died in Mostrar on a mission that was meant to be surveillance only. 

Phil was starting to wonder if the idea of an easy mission was code for ‘tragedy strikes’.

He took another few moments to fight back all of the pain rushing through him like acid in his veins with every beat of his heart, and, in moments, that pain was quickly replaced with _anger_.

Anger he could work with. Anger was a good motivator. Anger was what everybody felt at the news that the youngest asset they had had been dead for a while before they got the video tape. The best marksman at SHIELD had been murdered in cold blood by a war profiteer who wanted nothing but money. He killed Clint because he could and that’s all there was to it.

Phil slammed the cabinet shut and turned around. He walked to his desk and picked up his phone, dialing a familiar number. “Sir, I want access to full weapons technology, I want a full strike team, and May and Sitwell are coming with me and the strike team.” He flipped open a folder on his desk. “Strike Team Beta preferably. They’re all former special forces. I feel like using some special forces about now, Sir.”

Fury didn’t respond other than to say, “Yes,” and hang up on Phil.

Phil knew that he wasn’t the only one who had had a soft spot for Barton, even if his feelings went further. Barton was Fury’s favorite, and Phil knew that he was just as upset as anybody else.

He didn’t want justice anymore. Phil knew that Nick Fury wanted revenge.

~

Phil didn’t stay behind this time, and nobody tried to make him.

As soon as they landed, the team was meant to sneak into the Eastern Mostrar side of the city and wait for SHIELD surveillance to give them a window of opportunity to strike the warehouse that they believed was being used by a man named Jadranko Petrovic, a war profiteer. He was the man in the video that shot Clint.

The siege of Mostrar had ended weeks before, but with the bridges over the river that split the city demolished, it was hard to get into the right area without raising suspicion. The team was meant to split into two groups and regroup in the eastern part of the city before they stormed the warehouse.

Instead, when the first group, which consisted of Phil, Sitwell, May, and three people from Strike Team Beta, got to the position, the desire to get revenge and rescue Howell and Nash was too great. 

“The way I see it, Sir,” Sitwell said, checking the clip in his gun. “We could wait an hour for the other six… or we could go in ourselves.”

May nodded. “Every minute counts when it comes to Nash and Howell. And frankly, sir, I’d like to personally put a bullet in Petrovic.”

Phil huffed. “Get in line, Mel,” he muttered and she gave him a sympathetic look. He nodded, looking down the street. “I haven’t slept but about three hours in the past three days. We’ll do it now,” he decided. He pointed. “Two front, two up, two back. Mel, you’ll stick out the most, so why don’t you go up. Take Walker.”

Sitwell snagged one of the other strike team members. “We’ll take the back.”

Phil glanced at the other one – Grier – and she nodded. “I’m ready when you are, Sir.”

He checked his radio. “Five minutes and we go in.”

“Prisoners?” May asked over the radio and Phil shared a grim look with Grier, who shook her head.

Phil nodded and hit his button. “Negative.”

~

There were about twenty soldiers in the structure, Phil estimated, but none of them stood a chance when faced with revenge-minded SHIELD agents coming after them. Phil and Grier went down separate hallways on the first floor. He heard gunshots from her end, but his end seemed empty. He rounded a corner and took out two guards outside a door to what he hoped was the holding cell for Nash and Howell. 

Phil took the keys off one of the dead guards and he got the door open. He entered gun first, but as soon as he turned left and then right, he stopped in his tracks. 

Phil knew he was exhausted, but he was almost positive the figure, the one who was beaten, bruised, and bloody, the one whose face was mottled with horrible bruises, the one who was chained to a radiator in the corner… it was _Clint_. 

Phil’s breath came in sharp pants as hope blossomed in his chest. He rushed over and dropped to his knees. “Clint?” he asked, almost fearfully reaching out to touch him. When his hand made contact with a solid body, Phil could’ve _cried_. “Oh God, Clint,” he gasped as he grabbed the chains that held Clint’s wrists. He was unconscious, leaning into the corner, but he was alive. 

Phil didn’t bother picking the lock, choosing instead to draw his gun and shoot the lock, shielding Clint from any fragments as best he could with his own body. The gunshot right beside him startled Clint awake, even though the shots outside hadn’t. Clint panicked for a moment of waking up with someone right on him, slurring words that suggested Clint was suffering either being drugged or concussed. “Clint, Clint, it’s me!” Phil said, catching Clint’s flailing fists. “ _Barton_ ,” he said in a strong, resonant tone.

Clint stopped flailing long enough to actually look at Phil, only to gasp sharply. “S-Sir?”

Phil couldn’t for words. His throat was too tight to speak. He just nodded and reached up to curl his hand around Clint’s cheek. “Clint,” he breathed, dropping his forehead against Clint’s. He knew that his eyes were growing a little damp, but he was able to keep from tearing up completely. Clint, however, seemed to finally realize he was being rescued and he let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“ _Phil_ ,” he gasped, eyes falling shut as he pressed his head back against Phil’s. Phil savored the feeling of Clint’s rough, callused hand curling around the back of his neck as Clint clung to him. He pulled back just far enough to open his eyes and look at Phil with a jagged smile. “You’re as hell of a sight for sore eyes, Sir.”

Phil let out a weak chuckle, hands still holding Clint’s face. “God, you have no idea,” he said, then pulled back sharply when he heard gunshots and was reminded this was a rescue mission. “SitRep, Barton,” he said immediately and Clint whimpered some as he tried to stand and couldn’t.

“Drugs. Violence, drugs and no water or food,” he said, blinking hard. “I’m seeing double, Sir. Everything’s swaying. Probably a tranquilizer, not a psychotropic drug. No hallucinations, just spinning and stuff.”

Phil hummed. “I’d say. I fired shots outside the room and you were still unconscious. Took gunfire right here to wake you.” He stood up and grabbed Clint by the elbows to pull him to his feet. “Injuries?”

Clint shook his head. “Just surface stuff. Nothing broken or dislocated. My head hurts but I’m cold, haven’t had water in days, and am on some sort of sedative. Not shocking it hurts.” He stood tall then looked at Phil with a small grin. “Hey, when did I get taller than you, Sir?” he asked and Phil chuckled almost hysterically but shook his head, choosing not to reply.

Phil curled his arm around Clint’s waist, then put his other gun in Clint’s left hand. “If you have to shoot, just shut one eye to so you don’t have double targets,” he advised and Clint snorted out a laugh.

“Your plans are always the best, Phil,” Clint joked as he and Phil made their way out of the room, ready to get out safely.

~

When they finally got the extraction plane in the air, Phil went to the front of the plane to call Nick.

“Successful, Agent Coulson?” Fury asked in answering his phone.

Phil sighed, running a hand over his face. “It was Howell that got shot, not Barton,” he opened with. “Agents Nash and Barton are alive and mostly well. Both are dehydrated, suffering some sort of sedative, and beaten up, but they’re going to recover fully.”

“Good,” Fury said. “Petrovic?” 

“The problem has been fixed,” Phil said simply. “There were no enemy survivors.”

Fury was silent for a moment before humming. “Well, mission debrief when you get back, Agent Coulson. Good job.” Fury didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up.

After talking to Nick, Phil went to go check on Nash and Barton and see how they were doing. The medical team was patching them up and he hoped to make sure both men were doing as well as they had seemed.

~

Phil couldn’t stop looking at Clint. 

It was late, everybody else on the plane was asleep, but Clint was sitting beside Phil writing up his report since, even with the drugs still working out of his system, he couldn’t sleep. Phil probably could sleep, but he didn’t want to stop looking at him.

“Sir, how do you say ‘everything went to shit’ in ‘report’ speak?” Clint asked, looking up at Phil, only to double take when he caught Phil staring. He frowned. “What? Is it my face? Am I bleeding again?” he asked, touching the bandaged spot over his eyebrow.

Phil cleared his throat. “You’re fine,” he said, then smiled. “Just go with ‘the mission did not go as planned’,” he suggested and Clint hummed, tongue sticking out some as he went back to writing, filling out the last of his report. 

Clint finished and signed it with a happy hum. “So, gonna tell me why you’re staring?” he asked, closing the folder and setting it in the empty seat on his other side before looking up at Phil expectantly, clicking the pen open and closed as he waited.

Phil took a shaky breath, mouth open as he tried to think of how to explain it. In the end, he just looked at Clint without hiding anything. “SHIELD thought the rescue mission was for Howell and Nash.”

Clint paled. “Shit, Phil,” he breathed, immediately curling his hand around Phil’s on the armrest between them. “You thought-“

“I thought I was coming to rescue SHIELD’s assets,” Phil said, then hesitated and closed his eyes before letting out a breath. “And I thought I was coming to put a bullet in the man who murdered you, Clint.” Phil opened his eyes and looked into Clint’s. “I wanted so badly to be the one to kill him. I wanted to- I wanted him to suffer.” He shook his head, somewhat horrified at himself. “If I hadn’t found you and had been the one to find Petrovic, one shot to the head is not what he’d have got,” he admitted hoarsely.

Clint shook his head. “That’s not like you, Phil,” he said, curling his hand around Phil’s wrist on the armrest. “You’re not that kind of man. You’re always level headed even when everything’s gone to shit-“

“I’ve never thought you were dead before,” Phil pointed out. He couldn’t help using his free hand to reach out and touch the bandage above Clint’s eye. “Nobody knew what kind of man I would be when that happened before this.” He couldn’t help but push Clint’s hair back away from his face, tucking his long bangs that he still hadn’t cut back behind his ear. “God, Clint, when I saw you…” He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.

Clint seemed to understand though. He smiled sadly and reached out to rest his hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Phil, I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Sir, I’m safe. You saved me, so I’m good.” He shrugged. “I knew you’d come get me, you wouldn’t leave me to die-“

Phil cut Clint off with a kiss. He couldn’t help himself. Clint’s trust and faith in him in spite of being captured and beaten and watching his teammate die was too much for Phil to handle. Clint, his Clint, the beautiful, incredible, brave man that he was, had faith even when Phil himself had none. It wasn’t much of a kiss, just a simple press of lips on lips, because Phil was afraid too much pressure would hurt Clint with all the bruises he had (not that that made him any less beautiful), but Phil put every ounce of emotion he was feeling into the way his lips caressed Clint’s.

When the gentle, almost tender kiss broke, Phil stayed where he was, leaning his forehead against Clint’s. He felt Clint shiver and opened his eyes with a soft smile, only to see something bright and warm in Clint’s eyes as he smiled back, looking almost _bashful_. “Wow,” he breathed and Phil leaned into the hand that had migrated from his shoulder to his neck, brushing at the ends of his hair. Clint bit his lip and ducked his head, tangling his fingers in Phil’s rather than just resting on his wrist. Phil pulled Clint’s hand up and kissed his bruised knuckles, unable to help himself. Clint’s smile bloomed wider and he shifted around, taking his arms back and moving closer, laying his head on Phil’s shoulder with a small, happy sound. Phil shifted and curled his arm around Clint’s shoulders, letting Clint rest against him to get comfortable.

“You should get some sleep,” Phil said, lips brushing against his head.

Clint hummed happily, reaching up to tangle his fingers with Phil’s loosely where his hand rested on Clint’s shoulder. “Nobody’s ever did that before,” Clint mentioned with an amused little chuckle.

Phil smiled, eyes shut as he laid his cheek against Clint’s head. “Told you to get some sleep? I doubt that.”

Clint shook his head, making his hair brush under Phil’s cheek. “No, I mean…” He gave a small, almost embarrassed chuckle against Phil’s shirt. “I meant nobody’s ever kissed me.” Clint settled down before Phil’s brain actually connected what Clint said.

Phil’s eyes shot open and he barely managed not to tense up or jerk away when he realized exactly what Clint just said. “You mean after a mission?” Phil asked as casually as possible (which meant not very, but Clint was exhausted and still a little drugged, so he didn’t notice). Clint made a sleepy noise. 

“Nu-uh. I mean I’ve never kissed anybody before that.”

~

The first thing Phil did when he got back to SHIELD was go straight to Director Fury’s office. He didn’t even knock as he barged right in and went and dropped into the chair across from his desk. “Sir, I’d like to turn myself in for disciplinary actions,” he said without preamble.

Nick raised an eyebrow and put down his pen, casually leaning back in his chair. “I hadn’t been made aware you did anything to need disciplinary actions.”

Phil just stared ahead, voice unwavering. “Sexual harassment. I’m submitting myself to whatever punishment SHIELD rules deem necessary for sexual harassment of a subordinate.”

Nick finally sighed, rolling his eyes. “Phil, what the hell are you talking about? You did _not_ sexually harass anybody. You wouldn’t sexually harass someone for an assignment. You wouldn’t even comment on a stripper’s body undercover at a strip club, you’re so far from the type to sexually harass someone-“

“I kissed Agent Barton. I sexually harassed by subordinate agent and I would like to submit myself to disciplinary-“

Nick cut him off with a loud snort. “You mean to tell me you got me all worked up over _this_ -“

Phil slammed a hand on the desk. “Nick, I made a move on a teenager who was drugged at the time! That is borderline sexual assault, not just harassment-“

“Phil, do you really think I have never noticed the way you treat Barton?” Nick argued. “You having a crush is not sexual harassment. You would never make an uninvited pass at someone,” he said firmly. Phil straightened up and Nick held up his hand, ticking off on each finger as he spoke. “Was he under your direct command on a mission at the time?”

“No.”

“Did he say no or otherwise reject your advance and you did it anyways?”

“No.”

“Will he be filing papers about this?”

“Probably not, but-“

“Did you in any way coerce him into anything he would ordinarily reject?”

“Well maybe, he was drugged-“

Nick cut him off with a huff. “The correct answer there is ‘no’. You’re the only person in SHIELD that makes Barton smile like the sun was coming out after a week of rain-“

“Sir-“ Phil’s argument was cut off by Nick holding up a hand.

“Agent Coulson,” he started calmly. “I am not accepting your submission for disciplinary actions, because there is nothing to discipline. You rescued the person you have feelings for after he was presumed dead. Agent Barton is an adult and can make his own decisions about who he wants to kiss him. Therefore, until Agent Barton submits paperwork accusing you of sexual harassment, no sexual harassment has taken place.”

Phil gritted his teeth and stood up. “This is messed up, Nick,” he said as he turned to leave.

“Yes, it is messed up that you’re so much of a coward you’d rather risk being fired than get the courage to just tell Barton how you feel, Phil!” Nick called after him as he left the room.

~

Phil had been expecting it, but it was still a shock when Clint barged into his office without knocking and walked right up to his desk, throwing a folder down onto it. “Sir, why the fuck am I being reassigned to _Potter_?” he demanded. “I just got back from one FUBAR mission, don’t I deserve to at least get to go back to just missions with my handler?”

Phil cleared his throat and opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a packet of papers and slid them across the desk to Clint. “Agent Barton, I made a mistake. Nothing about this is your fault.” He looked up and met his eyes. “The reassignment is for your sake.”

Clint frowned and grabbed the papers. He picked them up and his eyes widened as he read the first few lines. “What is this?” he demanded, holding them back out. “Are you- is this about- on the plane-“ He frowned, looking confused. “Are you writing me up for sexual harassment-“

“ _No_ ,” Phil said quickly. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the one that kissed you when you were drugged. That’s for you to turn into Director Fury about me,” he assured him. “Of course it’s not your fault.”

Clint stared at him, clearly confused. “But…” He looked down at the papers and frowned. “But I wanted you to,” he said in a bewildered tone. He looked up with hurt eyes. “I thought- I thought you wanted me, too,” he said softly.

Phil swallowed hard and looked down. “You can fill those out and turn them in to him at any time, suiting your convenience-“

“Phil,” Clint said in an almost panicked tone. “I’m not accusing you of sexual harassment for kissing me, I wanted you to kiss me, I have wanted you to kiss me for a really long time, and I thought that felt the- when you-“ He shook his head, gasping slightly. “What did I do wrong?” he asked helplessly.

Phil looked up in surprise. He expected anger, maybe. At Phil for kissing him and ruining the good thing they had going. For ruining the dynamic he’d become comfortable with. But the outright _hurt_ on Clint’s face wasn’t expected at all. “Clint, you didn’t-“

Clint shook his head quickly. “Did I say something I don’t remember? When I was drugged? Whatever it was, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Phil, you know how I feel-“

Phil cut him off, because he couldn’t take hearing Clint _pleading_ with him. “I know you’re unhappy being reassigned, but nothing that happened is your fault, Agent Barton. It’s simply-“

“Then tell me what it IS then!” Clint demanded. “I woke up today expecting I’d come see you and we’d talk about that kiss and what it meant, I never expected to wake up and get papers for reassignment!”

Phil sighed. “Barton, I should’ve never kissed you. I’m sorry that I made you think-“

“Think what?!” Clint asked quickly. “There is no ‘thinking’. You kissing me didn’t make me think anything I didn’t think before that! Phil, you’ve looked at me the same way for months. I thought maybe it was wishful thinking clouding my mind, but when you kissed me it just made me realize I wasn’t imagining it, you _do_ look at me that way!”

“That’s the problem,” Phil said firmly. “I shouldn’t look at you that way. I’m almost _thirty_ years old-“

Clint made a loud noise of contempt. “Wait, so this is because of my age?!” he demanded. “YOU are the one who said to never let people treat me differently because of how old I am! You are the one who tells me over and over that people can resent me for my age but that it doesn’t matter, because I’m a good agent!”

Phil shook his head sadly. “It’s not about your place at SHIELD, Clint. It’s about the fact that you’re eighteen and I’m not just thirty, but I’m also your superior-“

“You turn thirty in a few _months_ , I’m nineteen in two weeks!” Clint argued. 

“Yes, you’re nineteen and apparently that on that plane was your _first kiss_!” Phil countered. “It’s so inappropriate of me that I tried to turn myself in for sexual harassment but Fury refused.”

Clint stared at him in clear and utter disbelief. He crossed his arms over his middle, papers still in his hand, looking uncomfortable and ashamed. “So… what, it’s because I’m a virgin?” he asked weakly, looking down. He sniffled some, looking up with tears in his eyes that Phil never wanted to see there. “If I had gone around fucking people left and right, then what? Would you still care that I’m nineteen?” he asked, voice full of _hurt_. 

“That’s not what I’m saying-“

“What then?! If I was good enough for others, I might be good enough for you?!” Clint demanded, a tear slipping down his cheek. “ _Phil_ ,” he whimpered, looking at Phil finally. “I thought- I thought you were different than the rest of them. You treat me like an adult. You treat me like I matter. You have always made me feel like- like all that matters is doing the right thing. You have never made me feel like I’m less than anybody else.”

Phil shook his head sadly. “You’re _not_ , Clint. You’re not less than anybody. You do matter, and I’m sorry you think this has anything to do with your worth as a person. This is about me having inappropriate thoughts and feelings for someone in my chain of command-“

“But you aren’t like that!” Clint argued. “You would NEVER take advantage of someone! You are the last person who would ever use your position of power to gain anything like that. You’re a _good man_ ,” Clint stressed. “Nobody would ever think you were taking advantage of anybody!”

Phil laughed humorlessly. “Exactly what Nick said. Funny.” It wasn’t funny at all, really. “Clint… it’s not right,” he said weakly. He looked up at Clint. “No, I would never try to take advantage of my position in regards to anybody, especially not you. But regardless of what I might feel for you, you are not … well, you’re just not old enough to understand this.” He winced, seeing the hurt on Clint’s face. “I know, I know I said all those things about your age not mattering, but it’s different this time. You’re an adult in so many ways, but Clint… until two nights ago, you had never even _kissed_ anybody. You have no experience in anything similar to the kinds of things I feel-“

Clint threw the packet back on Phil’s desk and gave him a look of anger and hurt blended together into something that almost looked like disappointment. “Fine. Have it your way.” He shook his head as he turned on his heel. “I should’ve known better than to trust anybody at this fucking place,” he grumbled, only to stop near the door and turn around. “You know, you and whoever put this kind of shit in your head has a really fucked up way of thinking, Phil.” Phil raised an eyebrow, and Clint shrugged. 

“It’s just pretty perverse that you all were able to accept the fact I started _killing_ people at sixteen, but my lack of ‘experience’ means I’m not mature enough to _love_ someone at nineteen.” 

Phil felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach at Clint’s words. He watched him pause at the door to wipe his eyes and shake out his hair, but he couldn’t find the breath to speak before Clint was out the door, leaving it hanging wide open in his wake. 

~

Phil felt the blow of Clint’s reassignment acutely. 

For the next two weeks, he didn’t see Clint but in passing. Clint never spoke to him, Clint never came to his office, and Clint didn’t seem to even like looking at him when they passed in the halls. 

He knew he had hurt Clint more than he ever intended and he didn’t know how to make it right. Part of him figured there was no way to make it right. He had did exactly what he had promised to never do with Clint. He had treated him like a child.

He missed him. 

Phil missed Clint’s jokes. He missed the way he’d bring up some random topic when he was bored and teach Phil something new. He missed the way, even though things had been bad, Clint always had an anecdote about good times at the circus. He missed seeing Clint smile and hearing him laugh and listening to his voice. It was like someone had carved a hole in his heart where Clint used to be.

And he had been the one to hold the knife.

Phil had regretted every word he had spoken that morning after Clint left his office, but the damage was done. There was nothing to do to fix what he’d did to their relationship. In trying not to hurt Clint, he’d gone and broken his own heart and he felt like he deserved every single minute of missing Clint.

Phil couldn’t remember ever feeling this way in all his almost-thirty years and realized with grim amusement that maybe it wasn’t just Clint that had no experience with loving someone.

~

On Clint’s birthday, Phil broke into his room on base and left the Walkman he’d bought him all those weeks ago on his bed with a simple note. He knew it was pointless, but it didn’t do him any good to not give Clint his present, no matter what happened between them after he bought it.

_I got this weeks ahead of time. When I thought you were dead, seeing it almost made me cry, actually. But you’re not dead, and even if we’re not speaking, it’s still your birthday. So happy birthday, Clint. I hope this year is infinitely better than last._

_I’m sorry._

~

Phil was surprised to find his own note lying on his desk when he got in the next morning. It was crumpled and looked like it has been thrown away and then picked back up. He flattened it out and saw there was a scribbled addition to the note.

Below his ‘I’m sorry’ Clint had drawn an arrow to the words and written beside it, ‘Prove it.’

Phil wasn’t exactly sure how to go about doing that, but if Clint wanted him to prove he was sorry, he’d find a way to do it.

~

A few days later, Phil snuck a package into Clint’s bag at the gym while he was training. 

_I described you to the salesperson when trying to figure out what you might like. He handed me this as soon as I mentioned ‘nineteen year old man that likes earrings’ so I’m guessing this is what the kids are listening to these days. Sorry if this tape isn’t any good. I just realized after I left your present that it was kind of crappy to buy you a Walkman but nothing to go with it. Never heard of this band, but then again, I don’t listen to much music._

The reply came in the form of written out lyrics stapled together with a sticky note on the front that read, _This tape is great, but seriously, you could not have bought a more inappropriate album to give me given the nature of our current disagreement. Maybe look into something you’re going to give someone in our situation next time._

Phil flipped through the notebook pages with lyrics written and felt like constantly slapping himself in the face every time Clint heavily underlined something that was far from appropriate (not just for their situation but in general, in Phil’s opinion).

Phil slid an apology letter under Clint’s door the next night.

_Dear Clint,_

_I swear to all that is sacred in this world, I never meant to give you music with the messages that I somehow control you, I mean to harm you in any way, or would EVER try to sexually violate anyone, especially you. I am so extremely sorry. The fact I haven’t died of embarrassment over all of this is only because I hope that you’re aware I had no intentions of sending a message with the music on that tape._

_Also, I very much hope that poor man who wrote those songs gets serious mental help._

_Sincerely considering hanging myself,  
Phil_

As he reached the end of the hall, he could hear Clint’s laughter from inside his room, and for a brief moment, Phil felt at ease again.

~

Phil wasn’t expecting to find a note in his office first thing in the morning, but there was one laying on his desk on top of his planner.

_Even when I’m angry at you and hurt by you, you still somehow make me smile and laugh._

There was no signature, but it still made Phil’s chest tighten all the same. 

~

Phil heard the rumors even if nobody said it to him. He was an Agent of SHIELD, he noticed things. However, it was Nick who actually brought it up.

“You know, I hear Barton finally agreed to go out with Hart,” he mentioned casually. “Rumor has it, barring an emergency mission, they’re going out Saturday night.”

Phil kept his face and voice as bland as possible as he hummed, passing Nick another signed form. “Hmmm good for him.” 

Nick chuckled dryly. “That might work on me if I hadn’t known you since you were his age,” he said simply.

“Sir, what Agent Barton does with his free time is none of my business.” He looked up at him. “Also, I’m surprised to hear you going in on SHIELD gossip. I thought you were above all that?”

Nick rolled his eye at him. “Like you didn’t know it, too. Come on, Phil, you seriously don’t expect me to believe you’re fine with this-“

“Nick, I made my decision when I had Clint reassigned, it isn’t my business,” he stressed. “What he does with his life is not my business. He’s not my subordinate, he’s not my friend, and he’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions about who he wants to take out on a date,” he said with finality.

Nick huffed, looking at him incredulously. “Oh how the tables have turned, huh, Phil-“

“Nick, come on,” Phil pleaded and Nick held up a hand.

“Fine, fine, I’ll let it go,” he said, but leveled Phil with a look. “I’m just telling you one more time that you should suck it up and go apologize. Stop this before you lose your chance.”

Phil smiled sadly as he looked up from the paper he was singing. “Nick… I did that the minute I fucked up and treated him like a child.”

~

Phil tried not to be too pleased in a sick way when Hart broke her ankle on mission and couldn’t go on a date with Clint that weekend. He knew it was wrong, and it felt ugly, but the jealous side of him was more than okay with the turn of events.

Phil didn’t like learning that about himself.

~

Phil was startled awake by his phone ringing. He wasn’t used to his phone ringing at home unless it was an emergency, so he immediately feared the worst. He grabbed the one by the bed and sat up some. “Coulson,” he said in greeting.

“Ha, you really answer your home phone like that?”

Phil stilled instantly when he heard Clint’s voice for the first time in two months. “Clin- I mean, Agent Barton?” he asked hesitantly.

He made a soft noise. “Clint right now, please,” he said in a small voice that made Phil settle back against his pillows, hesitating. 

“Clint, are you alright?” he asked.

Clint laughed weakly. “Yeah, I’m not drunk this time,” he said, and Phil heard rustling that sounded like Clint was in bed. After a moment there was a sigh. “Okay, I’m not alright. But I’m safe.” Phil slid back down in bed, waiting patiently. After a moment he heart Clint’s soft intake of breath before he spoke. “I had a nightmare,” Clint said softly. “It’s not- it’s far from the first one since we started fighting, but I just-“ He stopped, grumbling as if he was frustrated. “It was really bad this time,” he admitted. “And I wanted to hear your voice.”

Phil’s insides twisted and he had to put a hand over his mouth to stifle the guilty sound he wanted so badly to make. “Clint,” he started, but Clint kept going.

“You hurt me, Phil,” he accused bluntly. “You hurt me worse than I ever thought you could. You hurt me more than Trickshot ever did,” he said, to which Phil closed his eyes, a lump growing in his throat. “I trusted you more than anybody in my life, Phil,” he whispered, voice weak. “You- you were the one person that treated me like me. You didn’t act like I was a child, you didn’t act like I was a failure, or a delinquent, or anything like that. You made me feel safe, and now- now I can’t feel safe anymore.” Clint made an audible strangled sound. “I want to hate you, but instead, you make me feel safe even after all of that. I woke up, scared and crying, and I just-“ Clint let out a broken sob. “I just wanted you, Phil. After all of it, all the hurt and lies, all the everything. I still just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Phil closed his eyes. “You’re safe, Clint, okay? Everything will be fine. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, repeating it a few times the way he had in the past when Clint woke up scared. When Clint finally quietened down, Phil curled on his side. “Clint… you have to know I didn’t think before speaking when I made you feel like a child. I’m sorry I did that.”

“Doesn’t change that you did it,” Clint muttered.

Phil chuckled weakly. “I know. I know it doesn’t,” he said, rubbing his hand over his face. “Clint, I don’t think you’re a child. I know that doesn’t mean much after I already hurt you, but you’re far more mature than anybody gives you credit for, including me, I’ve come to realize. I think people – and I sometimes do it, too – mistake how much you make the best of things, the level of optimism you have, for this immaturity or lack of life experience. You’re nineteen and you act like the average, adrenaline-fueled, excitable teenager. But you’re not. And we all forget that. We mistake your personality for being child-like.” Phil shook his head at himself. “I’m the worst one because I know you. I know you more than anybody else. I know your past and your secrets and I still slip into making those same assumptions.”

Clint made a soft sound on his end. “I know I’m young, and I know I look even younger, but it just sucks to not be taken seriously. I hate it. And you’ve always taken me seriously, you’ve always treated me like any other agent, so it just-“ He groaned. “It fucked me up, Phil. I know it’s my own fault for singling on you to be the one person who makes me feel safe, the one person I know I can trust, but it’s hard to let people in and trust people when everybody in your life has screwed you over. And nobody else has worked so hard to make themselves trustworthy like you. I got used to thinking I’d never have to be worried about SHIELD fucking me over because you wouldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t right of me to put so much on just you, you’re only one person, but it happened.”

Phil smiled sadly, eyes shut. “I over reacted, I know that, but Clint… after what you just said, can’t you see why I freaked out so much?” He looked up towards the ceiling sinking into his pillow. “I knew how much you relied on me. I knew how much I meant for you at SHIELD. Beyond all of my absolutely wrong reactions, there was the real truth there that by letting my feelings get the better of me, I was putting you in a position that, if things went bad, you might run again.”

“I know, Phil,” Clint said softly. “But I haven’t run yet, have I? You wanted to protect me, but you just- you made it so much worse.”

Phil rubbed at the tightness in his chest as if it were a physical ache. “I know I did, Clint. I panicked, though. Even with the regrets I have, I can’t see any other way I could’ve handled it. I was horrified in myself for kissing you, because I’ve got such a position of power over you even normally and you were _drugged_ at the time. If that isn’t the most _wrong_ thing I could’ve ever done, what is? It doesn’t matter than you didn’t think I committed sexual harassment, or that Fury wouldn’t let me turn myself in for sexual harassment, the fact of the matter is, at the time, I did something incredibly inappropriate, and I hated myself for it. I was horrified at myself.”

Clint snorted. “That’s the problem, Phil. I get what you’re saying, I wasn’t able to consent, blah, blah, blah. I get the consent issues, but you weren’t exactly in your right mind anyways. You were sleep deprived. If you hadn’t been exhausted and so relieved I was alive, you’d’ have never did that. You could’ve handled it better by talking to me about it, Phil. Instead, you freaked out about how clearly even if I wanted you to kiss me – and you _know_ I do – that it wasn’t my choice. And if you didn’t want it, that’s one thing, but you kissed me first. But instead of talking to me about it, you just freaked out! You tried to turn yourself in for _sexual harassment_ , Phil! You, the model of propriety, didn’t even think about talking to the person you kissed, you immediately assumed you were practically a rapist or something. You had me reassigned, Phil! Over a kiss!”

Phil smiled in spite of himself. “Looking back, I guess doing that and then implying that _you_ were the one who couldn’t handle something romantic is pretty ridiculous, huh?”

Clint laughed, but this time he sounded actually amused, not on the verge of crying again. “No crap, Phil. If that’s not emotionally stunted, I don’t know what is. I mean, you could’ve just let me down, Man. Totally shutting down a professional relationship over one kiss is a bit much, Sir.”

Phil made a soft, amused noise. “I know that now. But by the time I realized how immature and selfish I was being, I’d already ruined our working relationship too.” His smile slipped some. “I know it’s all my fault, but I do miss you, Clint. Everything else aside, our friendship was probably the most open and real friendship I’ve ever had.” He snorted. “Nick Fury is my best friend, for God’s sake.”

Clint barked out a laugh at that. “You definitely don’t have touchy feeling conversations with him, do you?” he teased. He sighed heavily on his end. “I don’t know, Phil. Yes, you were my best friend, probably the only friend I’ve ever had I didn’t keep things from, but… I dunno.” He sounded shy suddenly and Phil steeled himself for whatever he was going to say. “Our friendship was only made so easy because I was falling in love with you, Phil. The whole time, probably. I don’t- I don’t know how to be your friend and not be in love with you.”

Phil’s stomach jerked at the words and he had to fight the shiver that wanted so badly to run down his spine at those words. “I wish I could go back,” he admitted before he could stop himself. “I wish I could go back to what we had. I miss the way you make me feel. I know it was my feelings for you, and that’s what I didn’t want to encourage, but you just… you make me look at the world in a different way. The year we worked together opened my eyes so much and there were times I wanted to just listen to you tell me about something so random just because you made it seem like it mattered. The most innocuous things had meaning when you made me see it.” He smiled sadly. “I just wish I could undo everything. If I had stopped you going on that mission, I’d never have learned what it felt like to think you were dead, I would have never kissed you, I would have never ruined what we had. I was content not admitting out loud what I felt or acting on it. I could’ve continued that. It could’ve been good.”

“Phil, it wasn’t though,” Clint said softly. “It would’ve just kept getting harder to not tell you how I felt. It wasn’t unbearable, but some nights we’d share a bed on a mission and I’d want so badly to just pull your arms around me that I had to get up and go get some water or something. I couldn’t have gone on forever not talking about or acting on what I felt.” He huffed. “I just never thought the reaction I’d get would be you saying I was too young to know what I felt.”

Phil hummed. “Well, seeing as I’ve had semi-serious relationships before and still had no clue how bad it would hurt to lose someone I was never actually dating, clearly age and experience doesn’t mean shit when it comes to emotions.”

“And there you go,” Clint said simply. After a short time silent, Clint sighed. “I should try to get some more sleep. I’ve got training tomorrow.”

Phil hummed sleepily. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve did, Clint. But I’m so glad you called me. I’ve missed your voice.”

Clint laughed softly. “I miss you, too. And hey…” he hesitated. “If you see me on base sometime, maybe look at me instead of dart down the nearest hall? I know things aren’t good, but seeing you smile would probably make my day a whole lot better.”

“I will,” Phil promised before hanging up.

He meant it, too. He really did want to fix things between them. They might never be close again, but he didn’t want to lose Clint forever. Not over his own stupid mistake.

~

Phil liked the new thing he and Clint had going. They still didn’t hang out. Clint never came to visit his office or anything, but when they saw each other, they’d exchange pleasantries. One day, Clint even came into the cafeteria the same time Phil did and they sat and had lunch together, talking about their latest missions. It felt good to reconnect even casually.

Twice more Clint called him in the middle of the night after a nightmare. Phil knew he shouldn’t encourage it, but his sleep lost was worth comforting Clint. 

One night, Clint called him earlier, while he was still at the office working late, and Phil could hear noise around him. “Hey, I just wanted to check up on you,” Clint said in a dramatically cheerful voice that left Phil frowning.

“Barton, what the hell?”

“Wait, what?! Your leg?” Clint cried in surprise. “Oh crap, I’ll be there soon!”

Phil raised an eyebrow and bit back a chuckle. “Trying to escape someone, huh?” he asked, amused.

“Yeah, hold on, I’ll be right there. I’ve gotta say goodbye. I’ll call you back.” Phil heard car horns just before Clint hung up so he assumed he was somewhere at a payphone, not inside a building. 

About ten minutes later, Clint called back. He still heard car horns, but he assumed Clint walked a few blocks and found another phone. “Phil?” he asked, and Phil laughed.

“I’m assuming that was your escape call?”

Clint groaned. “Oh God, this is so embarrassing. Is there any way I can get away without telling you?” he asked and Phil snickered.

“Clint, I won’t judge you,” he said gently.

Clint was oddly quiet for a moment. “I- um. I was actually on a date.” 

Phil tensed, fighting the entirely unfounded jealousy that surged up in him surprisingly. “Oh,” he said as evenly as possible, fighting any inflection.

Clint sighed. “Yeah. With, uh, with this analyst. I wasn’t really sure he meant a date so I said yes the first time, but… well it was a date and I was already there so I figured why not. After the first time, he didn’t go tell anybody ‘Barton is a queer’ or anything, at least.”

“First time?” Phil asked, trying his hardest to seem absolutely uninterested.

“Yeah,” Clint said softly. “I had fun the first time, so I went out with him again a few days ago. It was pretty fun, so I figured ‘why not?’ cause nobody at SHIELD has to find out. I mean, I know there’s the non-discrimination thing, but still, don’t need another reason for people to dislike me.”

Phil nodded. “Well. That’s… good. That you had a nice date.” He bit back a surge of entirely selfish hope before asking what he really wanted to ask. “So, why did you need to make an escape phone call?”

Clint didn’t answer for a bit and Phil almost thought they had been cut off but Clint spoke again. “I just don’t like him I don’t think,” he said softly. “And he didn’t really seem to be getting the hint that I wanted to go home to my place, not his, if you get what I’m saying.” Phil frowned. 

“Why didn’t you just tell him you’re not interested?” he asked.

“I wanted to be nice about it.” Clint groaned. “We went to the movies and he kept putting his hand on my leg and kissing my neck and stuff, and I’d grab his hand and kinda lean away because I didn’t want to draw attention to us by saying something, I really don’t want to get my ass kicked in a movie theatre you know? But when we got outside, I said I needed to get back to base and he was all ‘no, just come stay with me’ and stuff. And I tried the ‘early assignment’ thing, but he said I must’ve had the date wrong because nothing was scheduled for tomorrow. And I didn’t want to just flat out tell the poor guy ‘I don’t like you that much’ because he’s nice and there’s nothing wrong with him. I kinda hope we can stay friends, because he’s funny and stuff. So yeah. I just pulled a ‘let me check on my friend getting back from a mission first’ thing,” he finished.

Phil chuckled. “Well, at least you have better tact than me. The last time I went on a date and decided I didn’t want to be there, I just flat out told her, ‘I’m not interested in you’ and left. I mean, I offered to drive her home still, and thanked her for a lovely evening, but I’ve never been good at letting someone down gently.”

Clint laughed, clearly relieved that Phil had reacted as non-awkwardly as possible talking about Clint going on a date with someone. “Yeah, well, you’ve spent too much time around Fury,” he said. “Anyways, thanks Phil. I’ll see you later,” he said before hanging up.

Phil put down his phone and couldn’t help the immature part of himself being greedily pleased that Clint’s date hadn’t been the love of Clint’s life or something. It wasn’t fair, he knew, but he didn’t like the idea of seeing Clint with someone else. Phil knew he would have to get over that eventually, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of self-centeredness. 

~

It was only because Nick knew he’d want to know that Phil got the call, at home, oddly enough, one his one day off he took each month, that Clint had been hurt. Clint got injured often enough, he had enough stitches to make a sweater in his year and a half he’d been in the field for SHIELD. He hadn’t been badly injured but a few times so far, the worst being the gunshot that nearly killed him the first time he went on a real mission. 

Until now, it had been anyways.

By the time he got to Fury’s office, he’d already gotten the story from some of the secretaries while he was on the elevator up. Clint had been setting charges with two others on a building where a meeting of a Basque region terrorist group was happening. The other two agents managed to get away but Clint was caught by the security at the gate. They had been after these terrorist leaders for over a year, and Clint had been far enough away from the building that McMichael had taken the chance and blew it anyways. Phil was seething, because he would’ve never taken that risk, but he knew that he was also one of the few handlers who didn’t think collateral damage was a viable option. He didn’t do a risk assessment, he made sure his men and women were not left behind or put in harm’s way unnecessarily. Accidents happened, but Phil didn’t make undue risk. 

Clint’s handler had done nothing wrong, one man wasn’t generally viewed as too much of a risk in that situation, especially since Clint had been clear of the building, but Phil still hated it. The building had been blown and they had managed to take out their intended targets, but Clint had been within range of the concussive blast and he’d taken a chunk of concrete to the head. He’d managed to crawl away and get under a parked car to escape the now panicking security force, but he’d passed out there and it took a second extraction team to go in and find him. 

Phil was impatient in the elevator. He wanted to get to Nick’s office faster than it took with the elevator stopping on every floor, it seemed. “You know, I heard he and Jordan down on fifteen were becoming pretty close,” one of the women said in a lower tone to the other, clearly not meaning to tell Phil this. “I think they went on a date, even. Jordan said they’re just friends, though.”

“Aww poor thing. I hope the kid pulls through. Maybe he’ll give Jordan a second chance?” her companion replied, and Phil cleared his throat to keep from laughing. Clearly Clint’s ‘just friends’ analyst friend was friends with the secretaries on Fury’s floor. Any other time, Phil would find that amusing.

When the elevator finally got to Fury’s floor, he rushed out as soon as the doors were open enough to fit through. He spotted McMichael walking away from Fury’s door and made his way over, hoping Clint’s handler had some news about his injuries. What he heard when he got close, however, stopped him in his tracks.

“It’s a shame, because Barton’s good with a gun, but hey, could be worse. The kid’s a nasty little faggot, so it’s not _that_ much of a loss.” He chuckled and slapped the guy next to him on the elbow, even though the man in question looked shocked at his answer. “If he dies, that’s just one less of them to put up with around here, am I right?”

Phil didn’t even hesitate when the wave of _rage_ came over him. He stalked right up to McMichael and grabbed his elbow, wrenching him around. He turned and looked surprised. “Oh, hey Cou-AH!” 

McMichael didn’t even get out all of Coulson’s name because Phil punched him as hard as he possibly could, right in the face. “Hey!” someone shouted, just as Phil dragged McMichael back up by a handful of his shirt and punched him again. 

This time when McMichael hit the floor, he was still. The hands pulling Phil back were entirely unnecessary given that he’d already knocked McMichael out cold. There was yelling for a moment, at Phil and for a medic, until Fury’s office door opened with a bang. “What the hell is going on out here?!” he demanded, only to stop when he spotted Phil, who had tugged free of the hands on him and was straightening his jacket. He looked at McMichael and then back at Phil with an incredulous look. “What the hell, Phil?” he asked in clear surprise.

Phil straightened his cuffs and walked past Nick. “In your office, if you would, Director,” he said calmly. 

Nick followed him in and slammed the door behind him. “What the FUCK was that, Coulson?!” he demanded, glaring at him. “I’ve never in my life seen you attack someone unprovoked! It’s your own damn fault he’s the one running Barton’s missions to begin with-“

“Don’t you dare,” Phil interrupted, gritting his teeth. “This is not the time to start that shit again, Nick-“

“YOU are the one that just knocked a man out for an accident that happened on his mission!” Nick argued. “What the fuck?!”

Phil scoffed, pacing. “I just knocked a man out for implying that it’s totally fine that it was Clint that got hurt because, and these are his exact words, ‘the kid’s a nasty little faggot so it’s not that much of a loss,” Nick! THAT is what he did to provoke me!” He took a few deep breaths. “McMichael said, ‘if he dies that’s just one less of _them_ to put up with’,” he finished darkly. 

Nick’s jaw clenched and he sat down in his chair. “Oh he did, now,” he said darkly. He sat back in his seat, hands on the arms of his chair. “Well in that case, good job, Phil,” he said lightly and Phil laughed harshly.

“Good job, yeah, right.” He pointed at the door. “That _bastard_ not only made a _stupid_ call to risk one of his operatives lives like that, but he fucking boasted afterwards that it’s okay because Clint’s sexual orientation makes his life worth less than the others!”

Nick grumbled. “Yeah trust me, that shit won’t fly here, Phil. Non-discrimination means all discrimination, not just race,” he said and Phil sat down heavily, putting his head in his hands. 

“God I just want to go beat the shit out of him again,” Phil gritted out. He looked up, flexing his sore hand. “Anyways, how is he?” he asked and Nick grew somber. Phil’s heart dropped. “Oh God.”

Nick shook his head. “He’s gonna live. They think he’ll wake up soon, but…” He trailed off. “Well, they don’t think he’ll ever hear again,” he said and Phil could feel the bile rising in his throat.

“Shit,” he said and Nick nodded.

“His inner ear on both ears were just… totally messed up,” Nick said with a grimace. “Even with our advanced tech, they don’t think there’s any surgery to be done to help him. Whatever he heals with, that’s all they can work with.”

Phil shook his head. “Jesus,” he said heavily. “But he’s going to live, right?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, he’s in the clear.” Nick looked at Phil’s hand. “You should go get some ice on that.”

Phil chuckled weakly. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that. After I go talk to Clint’s doctors.”

~

Phil sat beside Clint’s bed and just stared at him. His face was bruised and he had stitches along his hairline, though his bangs fell down over that some. Phil couldn’t help but smile when he looked at Clint’s long blonde hair. He never had cut it down to regulation, no matter what his new handler probably told him to. Phil reached out and gently brushed Clint’s hair away from his face, looking at how soft and innocent he looked sleeping. 

Phil couldn’t help stroking his fingertip along Clint’s cheek, smiling at the way he made a face but didn’t wake. “God, I can’t believe I handed you over to that bastard,” he muttered to himself. 

Phil fell asleep with his left hand on Clint’s face and his right curled around Clint’s hand. 

When he woke up, somebody was stroking his hair. He leaned into the touch, humming, only to stop and jerk up when he realized someone was _touching_ his _hair_. “Nnn huh?” he asked, blinking sleepily.

There was a soft laugh in response and his eyes focused on Clint’s face. Phil realized with a jolt that Clint was awake. “Oh thank God,” he groaned, sitting up. He stretched, then relaxed, elbows on the bed beside Clint’s hip. He smiled at him. “How are you feeling?” he asked, only to stop when he remembered.

Clint couldn’t hear him.

Clint just smiled tightly, though his eyes showed a hint of fear. “I can’t hear you, but I’m assuming you just asked how I am,” he said a bit loudly. Phil reached out and caught his hand, curling his fingers around Clint’s. Clint looked down at them then lifted his head again and Phil could see tears in his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t hear,” he mumbled. “Why can’t I hear?” he asked, looking scared. “Phil, I can’t _hear_.”

Phil nodded, swallowing hard. “Look at me,” he said as he gestured to his mouth, and Clint followed his lips. “I’ll get a notepad to make this easier, but for now, can you read my lips?” he asked, speaking slowly. Clint nodded nervously, jostling a tear free, and that broke Phil’s heart. “Your ears were damaged in that explosion. They can’t do anything to help you, but when your ears heal, they will be able to test what hearing you have left.”

Clint took a ragged breath. “So I- I may not ever hear again?” he asked, chest heaving slightly. “Never? But if- if I can’t hear-“ He let out a weak sound. “I can’t be deaf, Phil. I can’t!” he whimpered, shaking his head.

Phil shook his head. “It’s okay,” he soothed, putting his free hand on Clint’s chest to keep him from sitting up. “If your ears aren’t too damaged, this is SHIELD. We can develop hearing aids that are advanced enough for you to keep working okay?” He soothed. “Can you understand me?” he asked and Clint nodded.

“Hearing aids? That I can go in the field with?” he asked, and Phil nodded.

“Director Fury said so.” Phil started to explain further, but about that time the door opened and the nurse came in. When she saw Clint was awake, she went to get Clint’s doctor and asked Phil to leave while they did another exam. Phil promised Clint he’d come back and then left, leaving Clint to the doctors and nurses that he hoped would have better news for them when he came back later.

~

Phil spent all day working until Fury dismissed him for not paying attention in a meeting and instructed him to ‘go visit Barton, dammit Phil!’ in front of everybody. Phil wasn’t pleased, but he did want to go see Clint, so he didn’t argue.

When he got down to medical and signed in to go see Clint, Clint was awake, sitting on his bed with his legs crossed, and making what looked like a paper crossbow. When he walked into view, Clint looked up in surprise, but smiled brightly when he saw who it was. “Hi!” he said, then patted the foot of the bed as he dragged his pile of papers out of the way. “Have a seat!” he announced a bit loudly.

Phil chuckled but did as he said. He shucked off his jacket and laid it on the empty chair and then sat in the empty space Clint left him, crossing his legs under him much like Clint was. Phil grabbed a sheet of paper and one of the broken pencils that Clint had been using to make projectiles. _How are you?_ he wrote on the page.

Clint read it and then sighed heavily. “Bored,” he whined then batted his eyelashes at Phil. “What’re the chances you’ll spring me from medical, Sir?”

Phil shot him a look and Clint pouted instead. Phil chuckled and turned back to the paper. _Someone’s in a better mood than this morning at least._

Clint read it and smiled tentatively. “Preliminary exam shows that once my ears heal, I should have some hearing. Not much, I will need hearing aids like you had said, but I won’t be totally deaf. It could be a few weeks before I’m healed up enough for them to test again and start building me some than can get wet and stuff, but they’re pretty sure I will hear again. So yeah, I’m in a good mood,” he agreed. He looked down when Phil wrote something, but cut him off before he could even finish the first word and grabbed his hand. “Hey, what happened here?” he asked, pulling Phil’s right hand into his lap. He gently stroked his fingers over the bruises on his knuckles and looked up at him with a frown. “Phil?”

Phil sighed and gave Clint a sad smile. “I’ll need my hand to tell you,” he said and Clint must have read his lips because he grinned sheepishly and freed Phil’s hand. Phil picked up the pencil and pulled the paper closer to him. He had a lot more to say this time.

_Your handler has been brought up on disciplinary actions regarding discrimination is the official story. The long and short of it, rather, is that I got off the elevator at Fury’s office just in time to hear him imply that if you died it would be no great loss because you’re a ‘faggot’ and that would just mean one less of ‘them’ around here at SHIELD. I may or may not have knocked him out cold. I’m sure the witnesses have been told that it never happened though, because Fury sure as hell isn’t going to punish me for it._

Clint read it and Phil watched as his expression went from hurt and upset to giggling. “You _hit_ McMichael?” he asked, looking up. Phil nodded with an embarrassed smile. “Man, I’d have loved to see that, Phil,” he said, then gave him a sly look. “Any chance you’ll do it again when I can see?” he asked and Phil gave him a flat look. Clint sucked his teeth and shook his head. “You’re such a buzz kill, sir.” Clint looked back at Phil’s hand and curled his fingers around Phil’s palm, picking his hand up to set it in his lap. “You shouldn’t have hurt yourself though. You should’ve hit him with something, not your hand.” He gently stroked his knuckles and Phil shivered at the touch. Clint looked up at him with a small, shy look, then leaned down and kissed Phil’s hand. “Poor Phil. I bet it hurts,” he said softly.

Phil swallowed hard at the simple affection in Clint’s actions. Clint looked so content for someone who had suffered so much of a shock in the time he’d been awake today. Once again, Clint was being the person that Phil couldn’t help but love. His optimism didn’t feel childish this time, though. It was just so _Clint_. 

Phil couldn’t even be blamed for sliding his hand from Clint’s grasp and raising it to cup Clint’s face. Clint looked at him with wide eyes, full of so much hope he almost seemed afraid of it, and Phil knew he was fucked right then and there. “God,” he breathed, eyes locked with Clint’s before Clint’s gaze dropped to his mouth. “I have no idea how I ever thought I could make myself not love you.”

Clint’s breath hitched and he tensed. “That’s not fair,” he said roughly. “You’re the one who- who never says it. You are the one that avoids saying the word ‘love’, Phil. It’s not fair of you to say it when I can’t hear it.”

Phil closed his eyes, smiling sadly. “I know, but I can’t lie to myself anymore.” He opened his eyes and Clint tilted his head, clearly trying to work out what he said. Phil pulled away and grabbed the paper and pencil. _I can’t lie to myself anymore, Clint. I’m sorry I waited to say it when you can’t hear, but I love you. I love you and I know it isn’t fair to tell you now after I’m the reason you’re even here and hurt because I had you reassigned, but it’s just the truth. I can’t pretend that I’m not every bit as much in love with you now as I was last year._

Clint looked at the paper for a long time, until Phil was worried he had changed his mind, that Phil had read this whole situation wrong and he had lost his chance. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Clint looked up and Phil’s stomach lurched at the sight of tears in Clint’s eyes. “Phil… this isn’t your fault,” he said strongly.

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Out of all of that, you go straight to _comforting_ me?”

Clint laughed wetly. “Phil, your self-loathing gets extreme sometimes.” He reached out and put his warm palm on Phil’s cheek. “Phil, you had no clue reassigning me would end in me losing my hearing. You didn’t know McMichael would make a sacrificial call. Most people do, besides you. It’s why agents like you best as their handler.” He shrugged, stroking at Phil’s cheek. “Jordan is the one that told his friends we went out on a date. That’s how McMichael must’ve heard about me. It’s not your fault.”

Phil tried to pull away from Clint, because it _was_ and he didn’t like the false comfort, but instead, Clint raised his other hand and captured Phil’s face between his palms. Clint licked his lips and spoke looking Phil in the eyes. “I love you, Phil Coulson,” he said strongly, and Phil couldn’t help the way he had a whole-body shiver at those words. Clint chuckled. “I didn’t know if I’d ever get to tell you that face to face, so I’m not wasting time anymore. No matter what you do now, I won’t ever regret telling you that.” Phil stayed still and Clint seemed to take it as permission to lean in and kiss him. 

Phil closed his eyes and let Clint kiss him this time. He wasn’t going to pull away. Not now. He raised a hand and pushed Clint’s hair out of his face, turning his head to get a better angle. Clint’s kiss was a little clumsy, but he knew what he was doing better than Phil thought he would. (Privately, he knew the small surge of jealousy over the thought of somebody teaching him how to kiss recently was entirely ridiculous, but he’d been more than a little ridiculous about Clint lately)

When Clint pulled away, positively beaming in a way that made his blue eyes shine brightly, Phil couldn’t help but chuckle and reach for the pencil and paper. _Better than last time I kissed you, right?_ he wrote jokingly.

Clint read it and laughed, nodding sheepishly. “A lot better than Jordan, too,” he said and Phil narrowed his eyes at him. “I know, I know, not nice to talk about other guys I kissed when I was just kissing you, but it’s only true,” he said with a small, sheepish grin. He tangled his hand with Phil’s on his lap. “It was kinda… boring. I mean, he’s the only other person I’ve kissed besides you, but even if it felt good, it was pretty boring. I like him as a person, but there was just not any of the attraction there like I feel for you.”

Phil rolled his eyes and grabbed the pencil, scribbling a note with his wrong hand since Clint still held his write. It was sloppy, but legible. _Good, that means I don’t have to have him reassigned to make sure he doesn’t make a pass at you. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a very jealous person._

Clint read it and snorted. “Eh, well, you had to have a negative trait somewhere,” he said, smiling up at Phil. 

Phil made sure Clint could see as he spoke. “Wow, just one?” he asked and Clint wiggled his eyebrows.

“As far as I can tell, just the one.” He reached up and brushed his fingers along Phil’s jaw. “I told you, Phil. You’re pretty much the perfect person. Why do you think I fell so hard for you?” he asked softly.

Instead of answer, Phil just leaned in and brushed a kiss to Clint’s forehead before ducking to bump their foreheads together. He didn’t need words to express to Clint how much he understood exactly what Clint was saying.

~

When Clint was released from the hospital, Phil told Nick that he was taking Clint home with him to let him heal in a non-work environment. Even if Clint had his own room, it was on base and the temptation to go to the range or gym would be too much. Nick just gave him a knowing look as he approved the paperwork. 

Clint still got a little dizzy sometimes, though the doctors had reassured him that, no matter what his hearing loss, his balance would stabilize once his ears healed. He had to spend two weeks taking it easy. It would take about two months for his ears to heal enough to start looking into his level of hearing loss and what hearing aids would work for him, but after two or three weeks he was allowed to go back to exercising and using his bow (a gun was out of the question for obvious reasons). Phil had been given half-days for the first few days, so that he could look after Clint, but after that, he had to trust that Clint wouldn’t destroy his apartment while he was working his normal hours. He did, however, have a promise for no missions while Clint was living with him.

For the first full day Clint was there, he laid on the couch bundled up in a blanket, wearing some of Phil’s sweatpants and baggy tee-shirt because he was in pain and the pain killers only did so much. Phil spent a lot of time doing work from his laptop, but when Clint woke up from a nap and whimpered a few times trying to find a position to make his head stop hurting, Phil abandoned his laptop and moved to the couch with him. Clint moved so that Phil could sit against the arm of the couch and rested against his chest, curling up between Phil’s legs. Phil was able to watch TV since Clint couldn’t hear anyway for the noise to bother him while Clint slept on his chest, soothed back to sleep by Phil’s fingers in his hair.

A few days into Clint’s stay, he was feeling better about getting up and moving around without it making his head pound, so he joined Phil in the kitchen to watch him cook. They couldn’t communicate well because Clint couldn’t hear and Phil’s hands were busy so he couldn’t write, but Phil enjoyed glancing up and catching Clint staring at him more than he’d ever admit out loud. It was especially nice to glance up and catch Clint checking him out, because Clint didn’t blush and look away, he just smirked and made faces at Phil. The first time he caught him doing it, Clint just blew him a kiss and said, “What? Your wearing _jeans_ , Phil. Your ass has never looked this good before.” 

When they ate dinner that first night, Clint didn’t even seem to hesitate before catching one of Phil’s ankles between his feet under the table and holding it there while they ate. Phil couldn’t remember the last time someone did something so simple and intimate like that. It was really nice, actually.

For the first few days, Clint slept on the couch. They didn’t talk about it, but Phil had some idea that Clint wasn’t sleeping well and he didn’t want to wake Phil. Phil had made it clear that he had absolutely no expectations about anything sexual before he asked Clint to come home with him, so he knew it most likely wasn’t Clint being worried about sleeping in the same bed as him, especially after all the times they had shared in the past. 

The first night that Phil was woke up by Clint crawling into his bed, he was shaken awake by a crying Clint and he scrambled up quickly. “Clint?! Are you okay? Shit, wait-“ Clint couldn’t see him so he scrambled to find the lamp and ended up falling out of bed.

“Phil?!” Clint cried, leaning over to look at Phil, who sat up quickly. “Crap, are you okay?” he asked, wiping at his face, his fears pushed aside by his concern.

Phil got to his knees and turned on the lamp successfully. “Clint?” he asked, reaching out to cup his cheek. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” he asked slowly so that Clint could watch his lips moving.

Clint laughed wetly, nodding. “I’m okay, Phil,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I had a nightmare that was pretty bad, but hard to be afraid anymore after watching the masterful flailing just then,” he said, and Phil narrowed his eyes with a grumble. “Oh stop that,” Clint said, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “Seriously though, that was hilarious.”

Phil sighed and climbed back up onto the bed, folding down the covers so that Clint could climb under them as well. “You’re a menace,” he said where Clint could see him, but Clint was already sliding down under the covers and wiggling around to get comfy. Phil rolled his eyes but slid down with him, chuckling when Clint took Phil lying down as an invitation to lay his head on his chest. 

“You were in the middle of the bed and I couldn’t get in with you, but I didn’t think I’d scare you into falling out,” Clint said and Phil snickered since he couldn’t reply. Clint turned his head up some so he was looking at Phil, chin resting on his chest. “I actually can’t even remember what I dreamed now,” he said shyly. “Your little acrobatics routine made me forget.”

Phil glared playfully when he was sure Clint was watching. “You’re a menace,” he repeated.

Clint just smiled innocently and raised up on one elbow, his other hand resting on Phil’s chest. “Admit it, you like me being a menace.” He leaned in and pecked Phil’s lips. “Sorry I woke you.”

Phil made a hesitant face and then smiled. “You’re not _too_ bad,” he admitted and Clint rolled his eyes. Phil pushed Clint’s hair back, tucking it behind his ear. “Your pretty face is far from unwelcome at least,” he said slowly enough that Clint could read his lips.

Clint just blushed and ducked his head some before looking up with a small smirk. “You know you like me,” he teased and Phil grinned.

“Yeah, I like you,” he agreed, stroking his thumb along Clint’s jaw. “I kind of more than like you.”

Clint smirked knowingly. “I kind of more than like you, too,” he said, leaning in to press his lips to Phil’s. Phil shifted enough that Clint was pressed chest to chest with him, kissing him deeper this time. Phil slid his hand down Clint’s side under the covers to rest on his hip, holding him in place as the kiss deepened.

Clint moaned hoarsely when Phil nipped at his top lip before licking into his mouth. Clint arched into Phil’s kiss, tongue tracing the inside of Phil’s lip in a way that made him shiver a little. Phil pushed Clint over on his side, rolling them, only to stop when Clint put a hand on his chest. “Wait, wait,” he said, and Phil raised up on his arms so he could see Clint’s face fully. Clint was flushed, lips slick and red, but he shook his head. “I don’t wanna let this get too far,” he said, even as his eyes flickered down to Phil’s mouth.

Phil nodded. “Of course,” he said, backing off, but Clint grabbed his shirt. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, and Phil could believe him, the way his eyes were dilated with lust. “I just- I can’t see you in the dark and I can’t hear, and I want you to able to tell me to stop.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “If I wanted you to stop, I could stop you.”

Clint nodded. “I know, but I’d still rather try this out again during the daytime, maybe? Your lamp isn’t bright enough for me to see your mouth to read what you’re saying unless you angle the right way. I’d just feel more comfortable in the daylight.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to risk you trying to say something and me not able to see.”

Phil stared at him for a moment and couldn’t fight a wave of _love_ because Clint was such a good person. He wasn’t just a nice guy, or a good agent, he was a genuinely good human being. Phil just shook his head and let out a bit of a sappy sigh. He looked at Clint closely so that Clint knew to look at his mouth. “I love you,” he said clearly, and then reached over to turn off the lamp.

Clint made a happy sound as he turned over and pulled Phil’s arms around him, burrowing back against the warmth of Phil’s body. “I love you, too, Phil,” he said, tangling their fingers together on his chest. Phil just pulled him close, resting his forehead against the back of Clint’s hair.

Phil knew things wouldn’t always be so easy. He knew that Clint was in for a long recovery, even if he was able to hear again with the help of hearing aids. He knew that his life was going to get a lot more complicated at SHIELD when it came out that he beat the hell out of the handler that got Clint hurt and then entered a relationship with Clint. He was more than aware that the chances of their relationship surviving all that they would face in the coming months was entirely reliant on their ability to keep it together and not question the strength of their love. Most of all, Phil knew that even if Clint was mature, he was still starting a relationship with a nineteen year old. He would never underestimate him again like he did in the past, but there were still realities of their respective ages that would come up, especially around the gossip-mongers at SHIELD.

But from where Phil was standing – or rather lying – with Clint in his arms in his bed, still buzzing from Clint’s touch and already daydreaming about waking up to the morning sunlight streaming through his window and Clint asking to proceed with what they’d put on hold, Phil knew that for all of those things, all the difficulties, all the barriers, and all the challenges, all of them would be worth it in the end. Because the odds had been against Clint Barton his entire life, and the way Phil saw it, if Clint had managed so far, the love they shared had a fighting chance as well. 

As Phil pressed a kiss to the skin bared by Clint’s hair falling aside and closed his eyes to breathe in his warm, sweet scent, Phil realized that he was willing to risk it.


End file.
